Crossing the Threshold of Autumn’s Equinox, the Magic of the Apple Tree, & a Chiron Reflection
The wetland turns its Autumn shades, bathed in the dim golden light of the waning sun. Burgeoning algae blankets the pond, while amber reeds stretching skyward lean into the whispering wind, their willowy forms beginning to curve into Autumn’s coming embrace. Deciduous trees in the distance stand watch over the ever-changing scene, their hazel-tinged leaves setting a backdrop—at least from where I sit—for the brilliant unfolding that has begun.
The Autumn Equinox here in the Northern hemisphere brings with it the magic of brilliant burgundies, fiery oranges, and glistening gilded hues that light up the day, regardless of how sunny or cloudy it might be. The intensity of Summer has passed, and we look forward—and inward—to a time of shifting energy, priorities, and certainly light, releasing the extreme heat and long days of continual sunshine. We let go of what will only be unnecessary weight to carry as we move into the darker half of the year, making space for those things that will nourish us in the colder months ahead. We pause to get clear on how we might place our time, energy, and attention into all that stokes the fire of inspiration, carrying it through the many quieter moments, as well as what truly feeds our souls through our bodies, minds, and spirits.
The bears have been coming ‘round, as they often do this time of year. Eager for the abundance of apples that are turning the perfect shade of red, they can’t seem to get enough of the sweet fruit that offers itself so freely. Last night I espied an adolescent in the Cedar at the edge of our property, just by our own Apple tree, dangling his legs from a branch as he waited for our dogs to stop barking long enough to have his dinner and then, perhaps, move on. We’re happy to leave him more than a few, for it’s good to have some help with all this particular tree has to offer!
In Celtic lore, apples are associated with Autumn, as this last harvest is one of the fruits that will sustain us through the months ahead. The apple is known for its connection to the Otherworld, and it beckons us into this part of our own lives. Cormac mac Airt, High King of Ireland in the 3rd Century, is known to have carried a branch that held three (or nine, depending on which version you read) golden-red apples that jingled like bells whenever he shook it. He received this magical device—one that brought the most soothing of songs and with it, the deepest peace—from a god himself, Manannán mac Lir.
The story goes that one day, on the Hill of Tara, the land where Cormac ruled, a random man appeared carrying this very branch. When Cormac asked him from whence he came, the man responded that he was from a place where no hardship or envy, grief or anger, old age or pride were known. This place we can surmise is none other than Tír Tairngire (The Land of Promise), aka, the enchanted Otherworld. And though Cormac had a life that was filled to the brim with people and things he loved, a hollowness had seeped into his heart, and nothing could abate it. Nothing but the music from this magical apple tree bough, that is. When the man offered it to Cormac under the condition that he be given three things that he wished for whenever he returned, the King gladly took him up on the offer.
Cormac jingled his branch, and all in his kingdom were content, imbibing the medicine of the Otherworld by simply sensing its magic through the instrument. As anticipated, the mysterious man returned a year later to call in his first wish—which was the King’s only daughter—and Cormac had to relent. He thankfully had this jingling branch which made all the hurt go away. Then the man asked for his son, whom he was also forced to release. Lastly, the man asked for his Queen, Eithne, whom he also gave to the man. Left without his family, Cormac dared follow the man into a thick, foggy mist that shrouded everything in mystery.
When the haze had cleared, Cormac found himself standing in a garden courtyard that was home to a sacred fountain, out of which five streams flowed. And the hosts of this place were drinking directly from this well, imbibing its Otherwordly gifts. The waters flowing were more melodious than even the tinkling branch that lured Cormac here in the first place, and the myth continues that nine hazel trees grew over the well, and the five salmon within it would crack them open and send their husks down the stream. THIS is, of course, my favorite part of the story. And it gets better.
‘The fountain which thou sawest, with the five streams out of it, is the Fountain of Knowledge, and the streams are the five senses through the which knowledge is obtained. And no one will have knowledge who drinketh not a draught out of the fountain itself and out of the streams. The folk of many arts are those who drink of them both.’
~Cormac’s Adventure in the Land of Promise translated by Whitley Stokes
You see, the mists are the gatekeepers to the Tír Tairngire (The Land of Promise) or Emain Ablach (The Isle/Plain of Apples), or perhaps Avalon, or the land of plenty, or the Otherworld, just beyond the veil. And Cormac followed this man—who revealed himself to be the god of the Otherworld, the mysteries, the mist, Manannán mac Lir—into his home. Once Cormac entered the palace he was forced into yet another test, during which he had to tell four true stories. He drew on the pain and hurt from losing his family and all he’d had to leave behind for the thing he thought he wanted most (the jingling apple branch), weaving his own experience into his tales, passing with flying colors. When he awoke in his home of Tara, his family was with him, but so, too was this memory and the wisdom gained therein.
When we take the path into the Otherworld, through the betwixt and between, across the misty veil into a land of infinite nourishment, we are initiated into the world of mystery, the creative realm that sustains all of life. We enter into a deeper relationship with what will always bring wisdom and fulfillment, with what inevitably sustains us in this world, for we bring back its boons and are able to embody them as we live in this place and time. For though there is no time and place in the Otherworld, it meets us exactly where we are and gifts us with exactly what we need, no matter what.
As a child, I always loved being outside. From spending ample time with the abundance of trees in my own backyard, as well as the creek that flowed through them, to making forest forts and hanging out in tree houses, I felt as much at home there as anywhere else—and generally preferred this to time between four walls. Skinned knees were prevalent, as were mosquito bites, forming the background of most of my life. When I went off to university, my roommate inspired me to start backpacking, which was a true gift. I did this often, and it continued into the years that followed, with nights under the stars around campfires, cook stoves and trail food, and gear that was light enough to carry on my own back. I once lived in the woods for three months with NOLS—the National Outdoor Leadership School—and craved time in nature more than most anything else.
But somewhere along the way, all of this changed. Life led me down a different path—one that has ultimately been healing on many levels—but one that also kept me from some of the places in which I felt most nourished. Yoga took center stage for decades to come, and it was a beautiful and necessary part that still feeds and fuels me today. But I also let life guide me elsewhere, forgetting about the Otherworld, this infinite realm of magic and nourishment. I took for granted the time I spent outside to nurture my spirit and heart. Of course, dog life kept me connected to the forests, meadows, and open sky, and moving to the West Coast furthered this necessity.
The good news is that Yoga, Chinese Medicine, Astrology, and Celtic ideation all recognize our innate connection with Nature and Life. We are not separate from the trees, rivers, or stars, but inherently connected to them. This is something I may have known, but it’s now something I sense with every fiber of my being. I am deeply grateful.
After 10 years in the Kootenays, with an endless backdrop of mountains, rivers, and forests, I remember my connection to the Otherworld, to Nature, and to the mystery of Life that always gives us exactly what we need with an open and loving heart. With my natal Chiron in Taurus conjunct my 1st House Moon and Vesta, this has been such an important homecoming. While transiting Chiron has moved back into Aries for the next few months, we might reflect on the wounds we’re healing around the reclamation of our courage, our ferocity, and our strength. Yet when it moves direct again and back into Taurus from April 2027-July 2033, we’ll be invited to reclaim our relationship to land and place, food and nourishment, body and sensuality, stability and security, and what it means to be comfortable in the skin we inhabit. I’m sure I’ll have more to say on that in the coming years, but for now, this is plenty!
I’m thankful for this transition into a time that encourages our recalibration, one that beckons us inwardly to drink from the fountain of wisdom, to imbibe the nourishing waters of the creative. May you nourish yourself as we cross Autumn’s threshold, releasing what you are meant to in order to make space for what you truly need. May you enter the magical realms of meditation, imagination, and Otherwordliness, spending time in the spaces that uniquely reveal themselves to you in just the right ways. May you reclaim what is yours to reclaim while letting go of what it’s time to relinquish. And may your recalibration be fulfilling in all the ways it’s meant to be. Happy Autumn.
