It's happening once again. I woke to the coldest temperatures in months, and I needed to break out the gloves and fleece headband for my early morning walk around the lake. The path under my feet wound its way through terrain that looked much different than it did in April. Gone were the bright, fresh greens of new life just making its way into the world. The tall grasses were now primarily a mixture of yellow, beige and orange. Cottonwoods glowed golden, while scrub oak were clothed in a dusky red. 

Persephone is, indeed, making her way deep into the Underworld. For those unfamiliar with Greek myth, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of fertility and harvest. When Persephone was abducted by Hades, Demeter withdrew into a profound grief. Consequently, the Earth began to die off. The land grew barren. Abundance became a thing of the past, and there was nothing now to harvest. 

The despair of mortals and Demeter's own demands finally reached the ears of Zeus, who realized he needed to intervene.He then brokered a deal between Demeter and Hades in which Persephone spent half the year above ground, now our spring and summer. She was, though, required to return to the Underworld for the other six months, with Demeter's sadness producing our autumn and winter. 

Myths can be read in many ways, with these multiple layers one of their main strengths. Certainly this one can be seen as a critique of our culture's subjugation of women and acceptance of rape, as even the most powerful of all the gods, Zeus, saw this "compromise" as fair. Yet this myth contains other gems as well. Most notably it is a teaching story about the need for balance between that which is gregarious, visible, and conscious, and what is reserved, hidden, and not able to be grasped with the rational mind. 

We cannot have only fecundity, expansion and outward expression. We must give death its due, become comfortable with contraction, and hone our ability to move inside ourselves for needed rest, reflection and to devise course corrections when we realize we have strayed. 

Yet we don't need to learn these things all on our own. The natural world is a teaching story unto itself. Demeter offers us the cycle of the seasons, in which we are given a ringside seat to observe and, more importantly, internalize this dance of balance and harmony. Seeds burst forth in spring, growing into their fullness with the long days of summer. Yet just as they—and we with them—become weary of the hubbub of rampant growth, the brakes are applied, things begin to slow down, and we are turned toward the quieter time of the year. 

Another Greek god, Helios, educates as well. As the personification of the Sun, each day he drives his chariot across the sky, giving us daytime's exuberance. At sunset, though, we are offered a time of rest, as Helios is carried in a golden cup across the ocean for a new day's rising. 

In a more collaborative vein appropriate to her feminine qualities, there are several Moon goddesses. Whether Selene, Artemis, Hekate or others, the Moon teaches about balance through her monthly journey, as she waxes from new to full before waning back to dark again. 

Same teaching, many teachers. As is so beautifully written in Ecclesiastes, "To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven." It is for us to learn this lesson and to enact its wisdom within our own lives. 

The time to travel into the Underworld is upon us. As the trees demonstrate, we need to let the leaves of our past drop away as we pull our sap deep into our roots. It is time to rest, to incubate and nurture the seeds that will become our new growth some day. 

Now, though, we hush ourselves, move inward, take time for quieter pursuits. A rich life requires us to live now on this side of the scale, to allow for an overall and long-term balance. Our culture may not encourage this or model it well at all, but ultimately that is irrelevant. Body, mind, heart and soul all whisper this message to us. "Let us be still now," they murmur. "Give us this season of repose. Trust us, and in time we shall rise up to carry you forward once again. But not yet. First this. Please this." 

Embrace quietude, my friends. Reflect. Discover what cannot be known amid unbridled busyness. Trust in the cycles of life. To everything there is, indeed, a season. This is the season that is ours now.

Much love, 

Leia