Can you feel it? We are standing at a threshold that arrives just twice a year.

The word equinox comes from Latin: equal night. On this day, everywhere on earth, light and dark are held in nearly equal measure. And from here, in the northern hemisphere, the nights begin to lengthen. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, it is the first day of spring. The same moment marks a darkening for some and a beginning for others, depending on where you stand.

People have marked this threshold for as long as humans have been watching the sky. In the old harvest traditions of Europe, it is a time of thanksgiving: you gather what the year has grown, and you let fall what is finished. The ancient Greeks told the story of Persephone descending into the underworld, and the earth going quiet until her return, not as punishment, but as part of a cycle that makes renewal possible. In Jewish tradition, this is a season of reckoning and return, when families build open-roofed shelters to remember both abundance and impermanence. In Japan, the equinox week is called Higan, which means "the other shore" - a time to honor those who came before, and to turn toward what is most true.

Different peoples, different languages, similar wisdom: this is the moment to pause, to take stock of what we've harvested, and to choose what we carry into the dark season, and what we leave behind.

The equinox marks one change of season in the year. But the seasons of our lives are always changing. And the work - our work - is to fortify ourselves, so that we can stand tall in our integrity, enriched by compassion, each time the season turns.

The imagery of this threshold is balance: two opposing forces held in equal measure. Light and dark. Giving and receiving. Manifesting and allowing. This is what power was always meant to be - truth and love, held together, neither one sacrificed for the other.

And for many of us, this season doesn't feel balanced at all. It's the start of a new school year, a new fiscal year, or we are chasing down the last quarter. Our calendars are fuller, and time seems to move even faster. So let's do something different. Let's draw on these ancient traditions to pause, to connect with ourselves, and to connect with one another — to fortify ourselves as we cross the threshold into this next season of life.

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The Practice

Here are three prompts for deeper reflection. Take your time with each one.

The harvest

In the old harvest traditions, this is a season of thanksgiving. So often we arrive at gratitude on the heels of something that required our survival, our skill, our resilience. Many of us have a remarkable ability to transmute difficult circumstances into blessing, into perspective, into something greater, so the question is:

What has fortified or blessed you this year, and why does it matter to you?

The release

And yet we don't always have to be in the business of making good out of bad. Some things we can simply leave behind. This is an invitation to grant yourself permission to set something down, to release.

Perhaps we are setting down our armor, releasing ways we learned to protect ourselves, prove ourselves, or make ourselves smaller in order to belong. Maybe it's time to release a role you're playing in a relationship that no longer suits you. You have permission to set something down without redeeming it, explaining it, or turning it into a lesson.

What are you ready to release - something you refuse to carry into this next season, because it no longer belongs to the person that life is inviting you to become?

Receiving

Now that you've filled your heart-space with perspective and gratitude, and decidedly released something, there is room for the new. What we ask to receive is not a transaction - not something to earn or achieve. This is an opportunity to identify and name what your heart truly desires, aligning with the deepest truth of who you are. This is not out of ego, but from a sense of sovereignty.

Complete this sentence, aloud if you can:

"In this next season, I am ready to receive ___."

Wherever you are today, I invite you to pause. Ask yourself what has fortified you this year. Ask what you're ready to set down. And then ask, simply, what you're ready to receive.

Equal night. Equal parts light and dark, truth and love, letting go and reaching forward. This is what formidable power looks like.