Sophia Bonnie Wodin

Breathe in.   Savour that sense of fullness. Breathe out.   Acknowledge that sense of emptiness. Do it again.   And now, do it again. Recognize that every day of your life you do this countless times. This is Life breathing through you. Now, at the time of Equinox the day and night, the dark and light are in balance.   For just this tiny space of time, it is as though Life holds its breath, waiting.   In fullness.   For what comes next.   The earth has given us of Her bounty.   And we give our gratitude in return as we harvest our summer crops, making way for fall plantings.   We pull out the finished plants and spread compost to ripen in the soil towards the return of spring.   We mulch cleared ground.   And we wait, savouring the fullness of storage crops, of root vegetables and cold-hardy greens.   Taking another breath, we prepare to enter the darkness of the year. But now, right now, it is the time of balance.   It seems simple, but balance is actual

I come from thunder and lightening, from the silence at the edge of dawn from the moaning lovers’ embrace and the fear deep in their hearts. I come from the heartbeat of city nights and the low call of tug boats easing liners into the harbor. I come from the click of high heels on marble floors, and the vacant eyes of the vagrant huddled homeless in the doorway. I come from fragrant 5 a.m. bakeries and stale 2 a.m. beer joints. I come from the dairy restaurant with its white fish and white foods. And I come from the sharp smell wafting from barrels of pickles, olives, roasted red peppers. I come from pushcarts filling Sunday morning in Soho, Saturday morning in Union Square, Chelsea. I come from rushing traffic and taxi drivers, tired and rude, interested and caring; from lost tourists wandering Times Square wondering why they left home. I come from tall buildings graceful and old facing The Park; decaying