Twilight Time & Feeling Squirrelly- Navigating In-Between
"Heavenly shades of night are falling
It's twilight time
Out of the mist, your voice is calling
'Tis twilight time..." (The Platters, 1958)
"And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
High up in the sky, the little stars climb
Always reminding me that we're apart..." (Hoagy Carmichael, as sung by the legendary Nat King Cole, 1957)
"In the gloaming oh, my darling
when the lights are dim and low
And the quiet shadows falling
softly come and softly go..."
(Meta Orred, 1874)
There's a reason love songs and poetry are composed at twilight time. It's when light yields to its most mysterious depths, a liminal space, a space for pause. It's when wisdom can feel like the heart's first hope-soaked fluttering and the soul's scarred remains, from memories of what has been, or what might have been. We've all dwelled in twilight time if we are touched by Love.
How can twilight time help us now? In the in-between, one season changing to another?
Autumn is an opportunity. Its changing leaves, shorter days, and chillier temps bring us inside, near to the warmth of fire and candlelight, inviting us to slow down and go deeper inside our own soul. "Hush. Listen." It's almost as if the leaves themselves are singing this lullabye. "Sshh." The sounds of Autumn are unmistakable.
We can also hear our backyard scatter-hoarders, Eastern gray squirrels making light of their happy industry, one squirrel gathering and concealing 3,000-10,000 nuts and seeds per year, prepping for the cold that is coming. We might also be feeling a little squirrelly, tempted to press on with our busy-ness, avoiding the inevitable Northwest winds or the first frost that will signal an end to the warmth and abundance of the great harvest. We like to keep busy, so busy we miss the good stuff, the twilight time.
Some weary souls even dread the leaves changing color. Imagine that! Dreading the magnificent spectacle that is Life's most brilliant colors morphing into miraculous dormancy for next Spring's resurgence!
Sometimes I wonder, Nat. I wonder.
While navigating change can be disorienting and scary, it can also be a chance to learn more about ourselves, to plumb the depths of what makes us most centered. To relish in the love that makes us feel most connected, most resilient. Like leaves connected by wispy branches, sinewy trunks, and intertwined root systems. Brilliant.
It's been estimated that squirrels find their cache of stored food over 85% of the time. It's not a perfect system. We seem a lot like them, hoarding stuff, storing it for later. When will we retrieve it, or even remember where we put it? When we run around endlessly, shop and consume like we're never full, doom-scroll until dawn or fill our lives with endless activities that we think will prevent us from sorrow, lack, or suffering, we forget the lesson of twilight time.
SLOW down. Pay attention. Listen. Nature has a way of making even the dreariest changes exhilarating, if we pay attention.
Here's a simple Autumn Twilight Ritual for helping us embrace the changes in our lives that are upon us just now.
Gather: Autumn leaves, acorns (husks are fine), feathers, desiccated pumpkins, vines, mums, asters or other Autumn blooms, a candle (electric is fine) or outdoor flame, favorite sweater, warm blanket and pillow. Favorite song or poem about twilight or Autumn. Go it alone, or bring a friend, kid, elder, or canine or other creature-companion.
Set the environment: Create a little Soulscape. Outside is best, but inside will work if you have the right ambiance. Wait until twilight, just as the sun is sinking low on the horizon. Surround yourself with the seasonal delights you've collected, leaves, acorns, feathers, decaying seeds and blooms. Illuminate the candle or light the fire.
Center yourself: Find your favorite sit-spot beneath a tree, near water or fire, or inside near a lit candle or fireplace. If you're chilly, wrap yourself in a warm blanket. Place your palm over your heart. Close your eyes. Breathe. In through your nose, count to three. Release the breath through your mouth. Let all the air out of your lungs. Your heart rate and respiration will slow. Your breaths will become longer, deeper. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Listen: If you are outside, listen for three distinct natural sounds. If you are inside, crack a window and listen. Wait until one natural sound "speaks" to you, calls you or attracts you in some way. Let that sound resonate in you. Focus on it. If your mind begins to wander or make lists, gently receive the thought, notice it, and then place it gently aside. Return to your breath and the sound that calls to you. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Notice: What do you notice about what happens inside you when you hear the natural sound? Does it flow? Beat loudly? Hum? Hoot? Sing? Crackle? Soothe? Lull? Energize? Notice how the sound resonates in your bodily awareness. Notice what memory, sensation, or longing it stirs. Pay attention. Note. Then return to your breath. Wait until you feel on the edge of sleep, calm, restful.
Celebrate: Now's the time to read your favorite poem or listen to, play, or sing your favorite twilight or Autumn song. Whatever emotions come, let them. Let yourself feel gratitude. Read or play it again. And again. If a friend is with you, celebrate your connection with a big hug or a happy dance.
"Together, at last at twilight time."
Now, you're ready. Change is happening within and around you. You're good. Go and embrace the night, knowing that you have worthily celebrated the passing of this one exceptional day.
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