The Star in the Apple: An Equinox Ritual

Autumn is approaching and, after a scorching summer, the rain is a real blessing, both for the land and for our nervous systems. Walking in the woods this weekend, I missed the sight of the blackberries, which are usually abundant at this time of year. But the apple trees in the community orchard...oh, the apple trees! They were laden with fruit, already ripening, a promise of the season ahead, with all its colours and scents.

I remember when I lived in Mexico. I loved the tropics, but I also missed the four seasons, of which autumn has always been my favourite. Its energy is charged with potential, with the promise of darker nights, curled up like cats to contemplate the slow journey of the light across the colder months.

All good things come slowly. This Equinox, as you enter the dark half of the year, let nature wrap herself softly around you, muffling your thoughts, putting your emotions at rest and whispering tales of the autumn. Perhaps you have already celebrated, either this weekend or today, 21 September.

I usually prepare long in advance for equinoxes, solstices and other festivals, but not this year, the time was not right.

If there is one thing I have learned, it is that forcing things is rarely a good idea, especially when it comes to spiritual practice. A living ritual needs space to breathe. It needs to arise from the synergy between ourselves, the land, sacred time and Spirit. The beauty lies in waiting for inspiration to come, for the moment when everything is alight with possibility. Praying or entering into ritual when the impulse arises naturally, rather than when our mind is on speedy mode, can offer many unexpected blessings.

That inspiration arrived today. Which is not too late by the way. 

We are accustomed to thinking of the equinox as falling on the 21st of September, but the astronomical calendar shifts slightly from year to year.

This year, it arrives on the evening of 22 September in much of the Americas, and in the early hours of 23 September in the UK and Europe.

This means that, if you haven’t celebrated equinox yet, or if you want to celebrate again, there is still time!

The Star in the Apple: An Equinox Ritual

Cut an apple across its middle and you’ll find a star. Mother Earth is so creative. And so are we, so that’s our Equinox ritual in a piece of fruit. Simple, and it unfolds over three evenings. Slowly, like all good things.  

You will need

• An apple

• A length of natural red string, cord or wool

• A small square of cloth or sturdy paper

• Kitchen paper

• A saucer or small bowl

• A candle

• A knife and chopping board

• A small table or altar

• A doorway

The first evening: the harvest

First, decide which side of the doorway will represent the season that is ending and which will represent the season ahead.

Set up your small table or altar on the side representing the new season. Place the candle, saucer, knife and chopping board on it, with a few squares of kitchen paper nearby. Line the saucer with one of them, then light the candle. 

Return to the other side of the doorway, the season you are leaving, and lay the string across the threshold in front of you. 

Holding the apple in both hands, pause at the threshold and say:

"I stand between the light and the dark. I have come to gather my harvest."

Step over the string and approach the altar. You have now crossed symbolically into the new season. Turn around, pick up the string and place it beside the candle; you will use it again on the third evening. The old season is now closed behind you.

Now cut the apple across its belly, not from stem to base, and look at the star. Think about what your harvest looks like: everything that has happened in the nine months since the beginning of the year. Think of the things you have achieved, received, perhaps resolved, learned and changed within yourself and in your work, your relationships and your life. Name them out loud and congratulate yourself on how far you have come. No achievement or gift is too small. 

Take the pips out of the apple, wipe each one clean with the kitchen paper/clean cloth and lay them on the saucer or in the small bowl beside the candle.

Eat one half of the apple slowly, enjoying every bite. You can lay the other half outside later to share with the birds. Now sit with the pips to meditate, and count your blessings. When you are ready, blow out the candle.

Leave the pips on their saucer or in their bowl somewhere dry. They will need a few days to dry out completely.

The second evening: the seeds of your intentions

Light the candle and sit with the apple seeds in front of you.

Take one pip and give it a word that carries your intention. A tiny apple pip holds the entire blueprint of a tree, all folded into something smaller than your fingernail. Your word works in the same way. It carries your intention in its most concentrated form, so that it can grow into something strong and beautiful, unlike anything that has ever grown before.

Say the word aloud and put the pip back on the saucer.

Do the same with each pip, one at a time. Take your time. Some words will come easily, and some may take you by surprise.

Sit with them for a while, then blow out the candle.

The third evening: the bundle

Light the candle once more. The pips should be completely dry by now, but if not, wait another day or two.

Wrap the seeds in your cloth or paper and wind the red string around the bundle. Tie three knots. The first is for your harvest (your intentions). The second is a blessing for the Earth. The third holds the promise of unexpected miracles to come your way.

Set the little bundle beside the candle, and say:

"Sleep well, little ones. I’ll keep you close until spring."

Sit with them and meditate, count your blessings again, then blow out the candle.

Wintering

Keep your bundle with you through the winter.

In January, the orchards begin to wake. If there is a wassail* near you, take your lovely apple pips bundle along. Let your little ones hear the singing and feel the trees stirring around them.

Then, at Imbolc in February, you can offer the pips to the Earth. Open the bundle and let the seeds fall on the ground, then say “I release these intentions from my keeping. May they take root in their own time and grow in the way that serves best.”. Pour a little cider, or water and honey onto the ground and give Mother Earth a blessing. 

Please do not leave the red string out in nature, as it can pose a threat to small animals who can get entangled in it. You can keep it fro future rituals or dispose of it safely. 

If you live in the Southern Hemisphere

If you live south of the Equator, it's Spring Equinox for you, but you're still welcome to join in. Simply turn the ritual around. Use a green string instead of red, for new growth, and when you stand at the threshold, say: "I stand between the dark and the light. I have come to plant my seeds."

When you cut your apple, think of what winter has given you.

On the third evening, say: "Grow well, little ones. I'll keep you close until autumn."

Carry your bundle through the summer and offer the pips to the Earth at the Autumn Equinox in March, closing the circle.

For now, let us return to September and the threshold before us. Do you have an apple? Your ritual can begin anytime. 

As I finish writing to you, the sun has disappeared beyond the hills, and I am sitting here with a nice cup of tea, with Boots the cat curled up next to me.

The message on my tea reads: “You deserve the best that love and life have to offer.”

That’s the blessing I want to pass on to you at this Equinox.

For my upcoming Autumn offerings, visit my homepage

Love, Cinzia

*Wassailing is an old English tradition held on Twelfth Night, or on Old Twelfth Night on 17 January. People gather among the apple trees after dark, pour cider onto the roots of the oldest tree, hang cider-soaked toast in its branches for the robins, and make a glorious racket pots and pans and drums and songs to wake the trees from their winter sleep.