20 March 2009

Getting the equinoctial point

Happy first day of spring!

Did you know? The word equinox comes from Old French equinoxe (I wish we hadn't lost the e; I think the word's much more charming with it) or Latin aequinoctium, meaning "equal" + "night." Tonight at 11:47 p.m. the sun will reach the celestial equator. I wish I could be standing on that very point just before midnight and feeling the sun kiss my cheek as it crosses. This day represents like no other the longing I feel for light to tip the balance and overpower the darkness. Just think. There will be a mere moment of equilibrium tonight; the opposing sides, for people in both hemispheres, will be matched in strength, and then, for those of us living in the north, the light will take charge. The sun will treat us to a linger-longer each day till summer's through. I find it so heartening. Autumn's equinox is beautiful too in its way, but the older I get the more I understand that more light is my fondest pursuit.

True to form, this day's been one of opposing forces, but I'm not complaining. Without some darkness to deal with, I'd take the sunshine for granted.

How are you welcoming back the sun today? Have you been successful at balancing your dark with light? Here's how I've managed so far:

Dark: I went in for my monthly voodoo doll therapy.

(This is not me. And this is not where my needles were poked. But I'm pretty sure I made this face.)

Light: A little voice whispered to me that the quiet young man playing computer games while waiting next to me in the doctor's office (we both showed up at 11:00 and waited till 12:30) really wished I would talk to him. I did and he completely lit up. I don't know why, but I tuned in to that kid immediately, almost like somebody had slipped me his personal file before we visited. It was a strange and sweet experience. I wonder, Was that important?

Dark: I added another mysterious dermatological oddity to my healthcare resumé today: Periorificial Dermatitis.

Light: It's not a skin cancer!

Dark: I was still too sick to do serious garden planning and seed shopping like I'd hoped today.

Light: I found two pretty springtimey perennials for cheap, one for outside—

and one for inside—

Dark: I came home worn out and achy.

Light: Rob picked out a sweet song to play for me, and suddenly I felt like dancing.


b. said...

I Love you.
I love your perspective...
I KNOW it was important.

c-dub said...

What b. said.

And dark:
I missed you when I called.

I was thinking of you. Good thoughts. Always.

Geo said...

My stalwarts. I love you.

(CW, Rob forgot to pass the message on to me till late.)

AzĂșcar said...

I always love to come to your world.

Light indeed...

Geo said...

Aw. I'm glad you're PART of my world.

Jamie said...

mmm. lovely juxtapositions.

too sick for church today. sad about that. watched elder faust on byu-tv instead. 1993 devotional. here's what he said that applies to you. and me. and light v. dark:
diamonds shine brightest against a dark background; likewise you will shine forth in a world of ever-increasing darkness.

i said, 'make me well! let me shine!'

your flowers cheered me up, way up here!

Michelle said...

ooh, I loved this. I too have been counting down the minutes until Spring. I don't care if it snows 10" today-- Spring is on her way, can't stop her now!

I was completely flattered that you visited my blog. I'm such a fan of your writing.

swedemom said...

I'm sorry that you've been struggling with your health. That can be so hard--especially when it limits what you can do. (hugs)

And thank you for looking for the good things. I really appreciated that. I need to do that more often.

Jessie said...

I think I planted some of those very same pink flowers in my front yard yesterday. Unfortunate, what with the snow and all... but hopefully they'll survive.

I hope you get to feeling better soon, this certainly seems to be lingering with you. And Spring is no time to be sick.