An Equinox on the Edge of Change

What will we find in the light?

There’s a moment, just before the sun rises, when the world holds its breath. It is neither night nor day, but something liminal. An in-between space, the kind that defies easy definition. Today, as we mark the vernal equinox, we stand in a similar moment: a fleeting pause where light and dark exist in perfect balance before tilting inevitably forward.

The equinox reminds us that balance is never static. It’s not a fixed state we arrive at, but a threshold we cross in motion. The Earth itself teaches us this. Twice a year, for a single day, daylight and darkness reach equilibrium before shifting again. But the lesson isn’t just in the balance—it’s in the transition.

We live in a world that is anything but still. There is political turmoil and cultural upheaval, wars waged in distant lands, and battles fought closer to home—on the streets, in the courts, at the dinner table. The structures that once held certainty seem less reliable. Leadership feels reckless; “truth” seems subjective; empathy is in retreat. We see it in the polarization of ideas, in the fraying of community, in the way people harden against one another instead of seeking understanding.

And yet, amidst this, we are asked to find balance.

The equinox is a cosmic reminder that change is inevitable. That balance, no matter how momentary, is part of a larger rhythm. But balance is not passivity. It is not stasis. It is something we engage with, something we build and sustain in the midst of constant motion.

But it can be terrifying to walk forward without knowing what’s ahead.

The Illusion of Stability

The equinox also teaches us that balance is never meant to be permanent. We love the idea of equilibrium because we mistake it for certainty. We think that if we can just “find balance,” we will finally feel safe, secure, in control.

But balance isn’t a destination. It’s a moment.

And that moment is always followed by movement.

We see this in nature. The equinox is not a resting place—it is a hinge. It marks the moment before the scales tip toward longer days or longer nights. It reminds us that every pause is a prelude to change.

This is a difficult truth in a time when we crave stability. But perhaps stability isn’t what we need. Perhaps what we need is trust—trust that even in motion, even in uncertainty, we can still find our way.

Embracing the Light, Honoring the Dark

On this day of equal light and darkness, there is another truth to hold: we cannot move toward renewal without acknowledging the shadow.

Spring carries the promise of rebirth, but it does not erase what came before. The soil must still hold the remnants of last season’s decay. The cycle requires both the growing and the decomposing, both the flourishing and the falling away.

So it is with us.

To step into what’s next, we must be willing to honor what we’re leaving behind. The grief, the uncertainty, the lessons learned in the long night. Let’s not discard them in our rush toward newness. Instead, we must bring them with us as compost—something that enriches what comes next rather than burdens it.

A Call to Act with Intention

The equinox is not just a day to observe. It is a day to participate.

This is the moment to ask: What is asking to be balanced in my life?

And beyond the personal—what role do I play in the balance of the world around me? How am I contributing to either harmony or discord? Am I meeting change with fear, or with intention?

We live in an era of extremes. The loudest voices are often the most divisive. The world tempts us toward reaction rather than response. And yet, the equinox reminds us that balance is possible—not as a passive state, but as a prayer of creation.

So what will we make of what’s next?

As the days grow longer and the light overtakes the dark, the invitation is this: to move intentionally. To embrace transition not as something to fear, but as something to shape. To let go, to walk forward, to feel raw but ready.

The sun has crossed the threshold. So must we.

Take good care,

MV