Hi Friend,

Some moments are just perfect.

Yesterday it looked like this: just on the edge of over-ripe tomatoes from our neighbor's garden (grown with our shared compost pile!) and some last-of-the-season yellow summer squash; half a clove of garlic (the same neighbor grows the most potent garlic we know, and I use it carefully lest garlic overwhelms the rest of the dish) simmered down with a dash of local salt and basil and rosemary, served in bowls gifted to me by one of my elders, sitting around a table that i have hosted dozens and dozens of gatherings at with, decked by an old white linen table cloth my grandmother got for my mother before I was born. A bouquet of local flowers from another neighbor's garden is in the middle of the table - they are dry now, but still rich in reds and pinks and yellows. Sitting with us at the table was a friend who was able to stop by in the midst of a long car ride. She had three hours in between her other things.

So we made the most of it: we lounged. I made an almond cake with a blueberry sauce from the blueberries Krissy's youngest son had picked in early August and we had immediately frozen. We swapped stories. We laughed deep belly laughs. And how, how we ate and enjoyed what we were eating! We relished in the deliciousness and the preciousness of this moment in the Hudson Valley: the end-of-tomato season.

She brought to us, from her garden, her first winter squash: a plump butternut squash that she cradled like a baby. I put it in the center of the table: first, we make an offering of thanks. For the abundance of this season. That we are here, living.

We had just come home from Buffalo, where my partner, Krissy, was visiting her mom who is in the hospital undergoing treatment for cancer. Today I travel to California, to honor the 10 year anniversary of my father's passing - and to purposefully connect with him, the land he taught me to love, my (very much alive) mother, and my eco-spiritual ancestors. Krissy meanwhile returns to Buffalo and her family there.

To live is to know we will die and hopefully, we die well; to live is to live amongst sickness and suffering. The knowing doesn't make sickness and death any easier, but it does make these moments of pleasure, with food and friends and laughter, especially appreciated.

Equinox is that time of balance between night (Latin: equi-equal and nox -night). A moment of balance. it is rare. In the northern hemisphere, it only happens twice a year.

Interestingly, in old European folk traditions, there are not a lot of rituals that we know about that specifically celebrate Fall Equinox. Of course, they knew when it was, but it had much fewer celebrations than other holidays, such as Summer Solstice or Sawhain (what we now call Halloween). One theory for this is that in the northern hemispheres, this is a very busy season. Winter is coming - fast. You need to be in the fields, harvesting. The big harvest festivals will come, but now is the time to work. And for eating (especially apples)!

Which is not necessarily true in Central America; for the Mayans, Fall Equinox is one of the most important holidays of the year: for it is believed to be the day that Kukulkan, the Mayan god of rejuvenation and renewal, returns to heaven through the pyramid at Chichen Itza. Great celebrations gathered (and still gather!) around the pyramid, and to watch, at the setting of the sun, what appears to be the rippling of the snake descending the stairs. After this moment, the harvest season fully begins.

My Fall season is always busy. Perhaps it’s an ancestral pattern.

On Monday I'll be co-presenting on the witch-hunts and their role in the Doctrine of Discovery/colonization alongside Max Dashu (who is an amazing independent scholar on women's suppressed histories) for the Motherhouse Starter Series (which has been amazing so far- if you are in it, I absolutely appreciate hearing from you about what's bubbling up for you!)

Soon, I’m officiating a wedding - oh, how I love officiating weddings! This one will be outside, in a gazebo in a beautiful park with singing, infused with the golden brightness of Autumn.

We have an upcoming in-person Crafting New Children's Stories Workshop that I'm doing with my friend Anna Mudd just under two weeks later, here in the Hudson Valley. It's the first time we are offering something like this for the public - though we've been working and supporting creating new children's stories for years.

Not long after, I’m going to a gathering of podcasters who host spiritually-orientated podcasts (hosted at, of all places, Bringham Young University in Utah. I'm SO curious how this is going to go!)

At the end of October, my colleague Ram is coming from India to California and we are going to SOCAP, where we're hosting a workshop there talking about Investor Readiness in support of Indigenous Entrepreneurs (it's a great panel representing indigenous entrepreneurs in four countries). Do let me know if that kind of thing is part of what you are interested in!

And we are starting our next ReMembering Course on Friday, October 25 - this course has garnered a lot of interest and spots are filling up! so please do let me know if you are interested!

And of course, there are our yearly Circular time offerings in December and January, which are always amazing.

Plus, you know, normal work - writing, collaborating, consulting, offering spiritual direction. Praying, horse-back-riding, singing, dancing, kayaking (before it is too cold to do so!) Leaf-admiring and apple-picking and pumpkin-choosing. Hospital visits. Wondering at moon rises and night skies and crying at the news of ongoing violence. (oh right, there's also an election coming up soon, isn't there...) Planning for the new year. Napping. Krissy and I take naps very seriously.

As the night gallops her way closer to the day, I find myself remembering a month-long retreat I went on, many years ago, with Joanna Macy, back when I was deepening into the Work That Reconnects, out on the wild edge of our wild continent, overlooking the pacific ocean. It was centered around the equinox. She held up an egg, and placed it on the altar above the huge stone fireplace in the main hall where we were gathered. The egg stood up straight on its tiny end - and then, when the earth turned (was it a few hours later or a few days? Time can be so blurry), it fell back onto its side, just the way an egg normally does. I stared and stared, wondering at it. Wondering at the extra-ordinary and bizarre nature of balance.

Last week, whilst in the lobby of one of the best cancer treatment facilities in the country (I was impressed!), I decided that we needed to cut out a few things. Family health situations demand - and deserve - a lot of attention. So we have canceled our Account-ability workshop for Q3,m. We will probably pick it up for Q1. let's see.

And I'm not planning on organizing a Course for Thanksgiving on our own, which we have done for the last two years. we are open to doing something in collaboration with others- please let me know if you might be interested in bringing material around Thanksgiving to your organization.

I look at my calendar. What is in balance? In what time scale? In what kind of rhythm? I am reminded of the strange nature of balance itself.

To walk is to fall.

You might know this - every time we walk, there is a moment when we are actually falling. from one foot to another.

We don't fall because we are in motion. Our other foot moves forward. bipedalism: one foot catches where the other foot is no longer.

We are in balance because we are in motion.

The earth is in balance because she is rotating on her axis, at a slight tilt.

Balance is not stillness, though stillness can enable balance. Even in sleep, we are in motion, our breathing long and slow, our body often moving, expressing, and releasing.

It's about finding the right rhythm, the right motion, and the right speed. Now is a time when I work long hours and take naps and enjoy the fullness. In the winter this will shift. I will find a different rhythm in the winter when I bring out my paints (winter is my season for painting) and light my candles and relish my flannel sheets.

Balance without motion is nearly impossible if not actually impossible. Balance is about rhythm. Different ecosystems in different places and different bodies need different rhythms.

Respect your own.

and relish those moments with others when you can just love this precious life.

- Sara Jolena

p.s. again - If you think you and your group of friends or your organization would like to do something with us around Thanksgiving, please do let us know!