Equinox as Threshold: Inanna’s Pause and the Balance Before Descent
There is a moment in the turning year when the Earth holds its breath. Day and night meet as equals, and the sun stands poised above the equator. This is the autumn equinox—a fleeting moment of balance before the descent into darkness.
In myth, this pause echoes Inanna’s stillness at the gates of the underworld, just before she descends to meet her shadow sister, Ereshkigal. It is not yet surrender, but the knowing that surrender is near. The equinox invites us to linger in that liminal space-to notice, to reflect, to prepare for our own descent as we turn inwards, echoing the sun’s own quiet wane into winter’s embrace.
The Science of the Equinox: Earth’s Tilt and Celestial Balance
While myth invites us to pause at the threshold, the sky offers its own quiet choreography. The autumn equinox arrives when the Earth’s axis leans neither toward nor away from the sun. For a brief moment, sunlight touches the planet evenly—north and south held in a rare symmetry.
Around September 22nd, the sun rises due east and sets due west. Day and night stretch into near-perfect balance, echoing the Latin roots of the word equinox: aequus meaning equal, nox meaning night. It’s a fleeting equilibrium, shaped by the Earth’s 23.5-degree tilt—a tilt that gives us seasons, solstices, and this moment of poised stillness.
Though atmospheric layers bend the light and true balance slips through our fingers, the equinox remains our closest brush with planetary harmony. It’s not just a celestial event—it’s a whisper from the cosmos, reminding us that balance is possible, even if imperfect. That light and shadow can share the sky. That we, too, might find a way to stand in between.
Ancestral Eyes :Celtic Wisdom and Equinox Reverence
Long before calendars marked the turning of the seasons, the land itself was the clock—and the people listened. In Celtic tradition, the autumn equinox was known as Alban Elfed, meaning “Light of the Water,” a name that evokes the softening of light and the descent into the fertile dark. It was a time of harvest, gratitude, and preparation—a sacred pause before the veil thinned and the ancestors drew near.
Though not as prominently celebrated as the solstices or cross-quarter days, the equinox held quiet significance. It marked the end of the agricultural abundance and the beginning of the inward turn. Communities gathered to share the fruits of their labour, to honour the balance between light and shadow, and to begin the slow work of letting go.
In mythic cycles, this was the season of descent—when the goddess retreats into the underworld, when the horned god begins his journey toward death and rebirth, when the land itself begins to sleep. The balance of the equinox was not static—it was a hinge, a turning, a sacred threshold.
Other ancient cultures echoed this reverence. In Mesoamerica, the equinox cast serpent-shaped shadows down the steps of Chichén Itzá, a celestial dance carved in stone.
The equinox was honoured in ancient Egypt too, where temple alignments traced the sun’s journey and upheld the balance of Ma’at—truth, justice, and cosmic order. The equinox was a time for ritual cleansing in India, preparation for the festivals of light and shadow to come. These ancestral gestures remind us that balance is not merely a concept—it is a lived rhythm, a relationship with the land, the sky, and the soul.
Living the Balance: What the Equinox Offers Us Today
In our modern lives—often hurried, fragmented, and overstimulated—the equinox arrives as a quiet teacher. It reminds us that balance is not a static state, but a dynamic dance. Just as the Earth tilts and turns, we too are invited to recalibrate.
To live in balance is to honor both productivity and rest, to make space for grief alongside joy. It is to listen to the body’s rhythms rather than the calendar’s demands, and to root ourselves in place even as we grow and change.
This season asks: Where are you overextended? Where are you undernourished? What would equilibrium feel like in your bones?
A Gentle Ritual for Rebalancing
You might mark the equinox with a simple, sensory ritual—one that honours both the outer turning and your inner landscape.
Equinox Balancing Ritual
Gather two objects—one to represent light (perhaps a candle, feather, or quartz) and one for shadow (a stone, seed, or piece of bark).
Create a small altar—indoors or outdoors—placing the objects side by side.
Sit quietly, breathing in the balance of the moment. Let your body feel the symmetry.
Ask yourself: What am I ready to release? What do I choose to carry forward? Where can I invite more balance into my relationships, work, or self-care?
Close with gratitude, perhaps pouring water onto the earth or whispering a blessing to the wind. You might journal your reflections, or simply carry the feeling of equilibrium into the days ahead
Turning the Wheel: A Closing Reflection
We’ve stood at the threshold with Inanna, watched the sun balance above the equator, and listened to ancestral echoes in the land. We’ve explored the science of celestial symmetry, remembered how ancient cultures honoured this pause, and invited balance into our own lives through ritual and reflection.
Now, as the light wanes and the wheel turns, we are reminded:
The equinox is not a call to action, but an invitation to pause.
As the cosmos takes its celestial breath, we too are offered a moment to notice—what we need to relinquish, and what we choose to carry forward. As Inanna stood at the gates of the underworld, did she know all she would need to shed to complete her descent? Perhaps not. But she paused. She prepared. She trusted the journey.
We may never know what lies ahead, but by using the quiet power of the equinox to examine our lives, we can move forward lighter, more in balance, and more attuned to the rhythm of the turning year.
Samhain waits just beyond the horizon—a deeper descent, a thinning of veils, a time for ancestral memory. But for now, we linger in the hush. We breathe with the Earth. We balance.
How do you tend to balance in your own life—especially at this seasonal threshold? Are you walking with the Wheel of the Year? I’d love to hear how you mark this turning. Share your rituals, reflections, or quiet intentions below—your words might be the spark someone else needs.
The myth of Inanna—of descent, surrender, and return—echoes through this equinox. Follow her footsteps here.
If the myth of descent stirs something in you, you might also enjoy my reflection on the mountains that have held me steady—offering perspective, protection, and a quiet kind of kinship. That post lives here.
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