Equinox

Equinox = balance. Balance between light and darkness, Summer and Winter, Yin and Yang. But I cannot create this balance outside, on earth, until I find it inside, harmonizing my corporeal body, my breath-body, and my wonder-body. Unbalanced individuals cannot produce balance in the collective, in the nation, in the world. My own body is, after all, a hologram of the cosmic body, where I integrate the Masculine and Feminine, the Solar and Lunar energies, celebrating their spiral-dance around the Tree of Life, my spinal cord. Here I find, in a secret place nearer than my soul, the Bridal Chamber, where I witness the wedding of Shiva and Shakti, Christ and Mary, the Immovable and its Dance.

When I pass through an infinitesimal door in one atom of my flesh, I enter an infinite expanse, the womb of creation. Uniting inbreath and outbreath, I rest in the equinoxial bindhu, where the rising and falling embrace. In this little indentation, this humble valley, just beneath my heartbeat and above my solar plexus, I come home.

The sword of my sternum points down into this wounded prayer, which is why anatomists call its lower point the xiphoid process, from the Greek, xiphos, meaning sword. All right then, let this breath be a gentle love-sword, piercing through my heart into the silence where worlds are conceived, into the stillness where stars are spun.

Jewish mystics called this point of balance the ain soph aur: literally, nothing-dot where light is born. Here I enter the stream of the uncreated, the silken axis that threads the bead of my body, with trillions of suns, to the center of the galaxy, and the center of the zodiac. Dear friend, before words, before actions, let there be wonder to balance the whirled.

Image: Christopher Remmers