Autumn Equinox, An Offering and a Bunch of Words...

I've become more and more interested in ancient traditions that mark and celebrate the changing and passing of the seasons. Growing up on a farm, seasons and weather were very important to daily life, but as a child, I had no part in decision making and just took each day as it came (not a bad attitude!). Then, years of city living with no outdoor soil under my stewardship meant seasons and weather were mostly about convenience. Since 2007, living in the country again, the yearly cycles and weather variations have been much more relevant. As I garden and tend to land in various states of wildness, water or lack of it, frost, snow cover and more, matter. As going anywhere involves a significant drive, weather and road conditions are a regular consideration. As I paint and write and photograph, themes that revolve around the 'natural' world, cycles and patterns of climate and weather, and how we relate to the world practically and symbolically are ever more top of mind.

I've also always been interested in those levels of experience and reality that go beyond  prosaic, physical life- deep and transcendent levels of spirit, mind or emotion, intense moments of human experience or of awe and insight which wrench (or nudge) us into greater awareness of existence beyond our limited, practical daily view.

The history (and pre-history) of art, culture, social organisation, religion (basically, cultural anthropology!) has always been another area of focus for me, first simply because it is interesting to learn, second because as an artist, there are often themes and styles that are appealing, and third because in the effort to grow and fully develop as a person, it is useful to see how other peoples in other times have approached the issues of being. Of course it is unwise to romanticise other times, other peoples: they were human, and subject to the same failings as us. However, there have been, and are, cultures (societal or personal) with lessons for us: lessons on how to be more attuned to the world around us, vs insistent on overriding every natural phenomenon with technology; how to see ourselves as part of a greater whole rather than a stubbornly isolated individual; how to restore awe and wonder to our daily lives instead of relegating that joy to childhood, and adulthood to a world of mechanistic routine.

For me (setting aside a discussion of comparative religion, and all the history and politics inherent!) the confluence of all these things (along with some interest in family roots) has led me to explore pre-Christian beliefs and practices (the word pagan is typically used, and I will use it at times, in line with modern usage of the term, but it has some drawbacks, that's another subject!). Since my mother's family was Latvian, and since that country has a relatively well preserved cultural history, I've focussed on that (Baltic in general), but putative ancient Goddess cultures throughout the Old World, and practices in Celtic and Nordic countries are of course related, and relevant to other bits of my heritage, as well as some outlooks of indigenous North American peoples (which I had thought to be part of my heritage- the list of topics for other days stacks up!). While the polytheistic religions that immediately preceded Christianity have left some interesting traditions, useful sets of symbolic names, and at times reflect older roots, my real interest goes even deeper, earlier, to the animistic or 'shamanic' (another troublesome word, for another day?) cultures.

These ancient peoples (and some indigenous cultures today) generally did/do not have extensive technology to separate them from 'nature', so they did not think of themselves as apart from animals, trees, water-the earth!- in the way our modern cultures, based on control and dominance, have done. All the non-human lives around were 'people', and had spirits and personalities, as did rocks, rivers, mountains, clouds. You might dismiss this as anthropomorphism, but you'd be missing the point: by assigning life, soul, personhood, we assign value. We do not own the world around us, we are part of it, we collaborate and struggle, nurture, compromise, guide and are guided.  In societies that long ago moved to agriculture, in whole or in part, the relationship to the 'wild' world beyond the farm and village would have shifted, in some cases from partnership to fear. Still, an intimate relationship with the seasonal cycles would have been just as crucial to survival, and certainly northern societies (at least in more rural populations, a majority in most countries until recently) retained a connection to the great forests that surrounded them, and which still supplied many material needs.

All this to say I've been looking into some of the ancient and traditional customs of the Balts and other northern peoples in recent years, especially around equinox and solstice times, those symbolic and practical dividers of time and season through the year.

Currently, I wanted to do something for the Autumn Equinox. Autumn /Fall has several definitions: astronomical (position of sun/earth-equinox), meteorological (weather! based on groups of 3 months, the start date of September 01 is a realistic start of the season here) and simple social, cultural references based on how it 'feels' (pumpkin spice latte season?). While our fall colour and potential for frost and snow starts well before the equinox, the date near the end of September does provide a useful marker and reminder to be finishing vital tasks before the onset of cold weather and an emotional, spiritual reminder to shift to the cold season turning inward- a time for reflection, stock-taking, meditating on balance (equal day and night), giving space to inevitable decay and death- and the renewal that follows! Of course we can't forget the importance of harvest and gratitude for the gifts of the season of growth.

With no chance to plant a vegetable garden this year, my harvest has been limited to seeds and some fruits and berries, eaten while working outdoors!  but the bounty of summer, glory of the transition, and preparation for the cold time to come are all meaningful, and the sense of transition/loss is amplified for me by the first anniversary of my mother's death. So, here we go,  a little altar/offering I prepared yesterday, with both the equinox and my mother in mind..

What follows are some of the bases for my offering, which in the end was specifically relevant to me, my mother and this time and place...

It seems the Baltic /Latvian traditions have become a little muddled over the centuries, due to the interference of the Christians, and influences from more southerly cultures (but that is a living culture, not a museum display). First we have Maras day, which is a harvest festival devoted to the Great Mother (presumably a connection to earlier Goddess centred cultures)-- it has been bumped to August 15, to be midpoint between mid-summer and Michaelmas. Then, Apjumibas, in honour of Jumis, 'twin' god of fertility, grains, the ox (this must tie back to horned gods, and the antlered gods before them) also protector of forest riches, pertinent to me. Originally celebrated around the Autumn Equinox, this has been largely pushed toward the end of the month for Mikeli or Michaelmas, but is still a harvest festival, and the beginning of the days of the dead (when the generally benign spirits of the dead walk the earth, and are welcomed home for  a feast, among other customs).

For my offering/ altar, I chose a spot between a couple of (unused this year) vegetable beds to maintain the harvest and land stewardship connection (it was felt that if Jumis was not appropriately honoured, the following year would have a poor harvest-- this reverence for the land will of course also ensure proper practical measures), with a colourful backdrop of autumn coloured Parthenocissus/ Virginia Creeper; I pulled some of the weeds, laid a ground of mostly dried grasses and branches of poplar and wild rose with fall colour. Next a flattish sandstone rock was laid for the altar, and decorated with coloured leaves and some late garden flowers, symbolising both summer's bounty and the harvest of seed; I included several stems of silver/white leafed Cerastium 'Snow in Summer' and Lamium to symbolise winter to come, snow, bone, death. Then I chose several stems of apples, in honour of harvest, in twos as a nod to Jumis, the twin, and a sheaf of native grass to represent grains. Finally a candle, for the layered symbolism of fire (sacred to ancient Balts), of sacrifice, and the traditional gift of wax to Jumis.

Above all, the preparation and laying of the offering was a mental and emotional-spiritual exercise, not an attempt to influence the external world, but a way of acknowledging it, of bringing myself into harmony with it, and time spent thinking of the land around me and all it bears, and of my mother.

I hope you enjoyed, and hope you took a moment this year to reflect on the meaning of the equinox, enjoy the season at hand, prepare your mind and heart for the days to come!