time to rejoice.

vernal equinox and a little known ritual that shakes off the morbidity of these times.

Photo: twilight, gibbous moon, and rope swing.

A light wind was kicking up and the sun exhaling it’s last bit of light, but we bundled up and stepped outside anyway, heading for the rope swing in the woods.  I especially love the equinoxes - the fleeting moments when Light and Dark sit equally at the table together, neither stronger or weaker than the other, both holding the rope of life taught between them.  In every culture there are personifications of light and dark into wild gods and goddesses, but I prefer to just let them be the powers that they are, no human form to distract me from their absolute truth: they run this show. 

Vernal equinox is one of the most forgotten points on the year, with no common rituals to accompany it, like lighting candles in winter or dancing around the fires of May Day.  But looking back into my own lineage I found that in the Baltics (now known as the Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, and northeast Poland) my pagan ancestors had a tradition after all: swinging!  Everyone did it, young and old, and the swing was put up and taken down just for this equinox moment.  If the solstices represent the far sides of the sun’s trajectory, the equinoxes signify the mid-swing moment, and what better way to feel the middle momentum than from a good swing?

All of our ancestors - if we look back far enough - knew to mark the important changes of the light, and to mimic this with their bodies.  We are constantly swaying and swinging, keeping time with our ever-moving planet.  The simple shifting of weight from side to side, swaying, is present in every folk dance - the rocking of new babies: universal.  Bowing is also a form of swinging, but from North to South rather than East to West.   And the simple qigong practice that boasts a healthy life of a hundred years if done daily?  Swinging the arms, a few minutes a day.

Above: the baltic symbol for spring equinox, in birdseed.

I was curious what I would find in the process of swinging with intention, if anything.  I climbed on to the round seat, wrapped my hands round the long singular rope that hangs from the red oak, and let my beloved push me back as high as his arms could take me. I felt a moment with my spine to the sky, my face to the ground, a horizontal bow into the Earth. Then he let go, and a smile peeled onto my face with the sudden surge of wind.  I looked up as the branches came toward me and felt a surprisingly authentic rush of joy as the swing brought my belly to face the sky, I think I might have even howled.  The view was exquisite, dark cerulean blue and gibbous white moon framed by dancing, dark branches. Then the rope pulled me back toward the balance between gravity and momentum, earth and sky, Dark and Light.  Each of us took turns, my two kids and partner, and standing by to witness I felt an infectious joy rising up like water from a pump, from my kidneys to my heart.  This is why my ancestors swung.  Swinging is more magical than we realize – who knows what we are tapping into evolutionarily as we do so – but it is always joy inducing, and joy is the medicine of the heart. 

It’s Spring: time to rejoice.  The plants show us how. 

To rejoice in the return of a growthful landscape I sing the sprouts up, Totoro-style (if you don’t know what I mean, it will be fun to find out).  To defy the pull of gravity that the Earth so kindly offers, I open my throat and take in the sky.  I quietly commit to rise and greet the dawn with a bow and find what is worth rejoicing in, daily.  And this is not to say that there’s any turning away from the destruction, harm, and deeply troubling times that we are all living through.  The devastation is real.  It’s the turning towards those things and choosing to rejoice in the face of them anyway where real power lies.  The work is letting the earth lead, letting our bodies follow, and trusting that we are nothing without our landscapes.  What’s happening out there is happening in each of us too. It’s not profound, it’s just true. 

So to the ones who are singing their songs together as bombs echo in the distance, I rejoice with you. To the ones who are speaking up in solidarity against harm, I rejoice with you. To the ones dancing in the face of great danger, I rejoice with you.  To all the ones on the move, singing as you seek safe passage through tangled borderlands, I rejoice with you.  And to you, whoever you are in this moment, I am rejoicing in the gift you are.

“There is no path to happiness, happiness is the path…walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

above: after a good swing.

This substack works on gift economy, like everything else I do. If you would like to reciprocate, commenting, sharing, or subscribing all help me keep writing.

curious about swinging practice? check out my qigong classes, it’s alllll swing:)