SENTIENT TIMES August/September 2002

The Yearly Round

By Richard Moeschl

The calendar that is life rolls on. May hosts a day to honor mothers and June has a day for fathers. June also has a special place in its heart for newlyweds. It’s the Summer celebration of young adulthood, young families and youthful ideals. “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy ...”

Fish may be jumpin’ and, while the cotton may be high, growth unchecked is not the way of nature, so the pruner steps in, beginning in late spring, to shape and redirect the course of life. Some of the fruits of these labors become apparent in the summer. Unbridled youthful enthusiasm slowly responds to the tempering of adulthood. For the most part we have heeded—if grudgingly—the admonishment to “grow up” and “stop acting like a child.” Indeed, the Epistle writer was moved to declare, “When I became a man, I put away the things of a child.”

By the time August and September roll around, it is the beginning of Autumn, the ripening time. The pruner’s work gives way to that of the thresher who stands over the fields watching the process of burgeoning and waiting for the harvest. This is not a time to be childish. In the winter, the benevolent thresher will be supplanted by the grim reaper.

But Autumn must have its days first. Among these are Labor Day, a day honoring work and those who perform it. The Autumn of our years finds us laboring. It may not be our life’s work, but it’s what we do to make a living. In the yearly round, it is time for the physically developed adult to mature into the spiritually and socially responsible adult. In the adventurer’s quest, it is time to emerge from the throes of the mettle-testing trial and the challenges to our personal young adulthood. It is time to engage with life and the other people in it.

The chasm we were meant to overleap in search of the soul’s treasure can be treacherous. But equally treacherous is the temptation not to leap into the unknown, but to remain, clinging to the familiar. If part of the appeal of meeting a challenge is to be outstanding, part of the stigma of abandoning the familiar is to be standing out of the group. In many tribal cultures, excelling beyond one’s fellows is not something to be lauded or desired. And yet, in the context of the adventurer’s quest, to be one’s own person is to establish an independent sense of self, an identity that does not depend on others for validation.

In the world of nature, plant life—having finally exploded into blossom and ripened into fruit—begins to conserve its vital forces, directing them inward. Bears will eventually hibernate. But that’s Winter’s gesture. In the Autumn, activity hasn’t ceased yet. It has simply been redirected. If Summer’s face is that of the radiant, unstoppable Sun, stretching out the days into long revelries, punctuated by frenetic athleticism and bouts of bravado interrupted only briefly by truncated nights of pensiveness, Autumn’s face is decidedly less ebullient. It carries itself in a more stately fashion, reflecting its stability. After all, Autumn plays host to the Equinox. That moment when days and nights achieve parity. Equal in length, equal in influence. Goldilocks time—not too hot, not too cold.

The apparent balance of Autumn can be misleading. Like two people balanced on opposite sides of a see-saw, the lack of movement masquerades as harmony. The two appear to be at rest. That’s not how the see-saw experiences the situation. It is in tension. It feels the weight on each side tugging with the force of gravity that wants to pull it downward. Should the weight distribution shift even the slightest, the board will tip. Gravity and the stronger weight will win out.

Autumn’s balance reflects that tension. The pull between opposites. The out-rush of Summer and the introspection of Winter. Day and night vying for supremacy. The balancing act of the Autumn of our years is just that. An activity. It is not static. As the days grow shorter with Summer’s gradual departure, they will slide us along the see-saw until the third week in September when balance is achieved at the Autumnal Equinox. If we have spent our Summer gathering strength and light as well as expending them, we will have the forces we need to stride through the months of August and September with the confidence in our step to welcome the coming of Autumn.

Richard Moeschl is an Ashland, OR writer, educator and public lecturer on ancient and contemporary astronomy, the calendar, and the origin of seasonal festivals. His book Exploring the Sky: Projects for Beginning Astronomers was a featured selection in both the Astronomy and Natural Science book clubs. He serves as founder and executive director of the nonprofit Horizon Institute, which provides opportunities for exploring scientific and spiritual perspectives.

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