In talking to people about their experience of the seasons and seasonal change I’ve noticed differences in people’s experiences of the transition from summer to fall. Some people can’t wait: Halloween décor goes up the weekend after Labor Day, sweaters are dug out of drawers in anticipation, and pumpkin spice is the flavor of the season—these folks are happy, comfortable and energized. Others struggle to let go of the warmth and the sun, and feel unsettled, weary, and destabilized.
In many areas of the temperate north hemisphere, autumn is a season of alchemy. The heat of the sun transmutes into the cool flame of leaves which gradually fall and fade. There is a last burst of fecundity from the gourds. The warmth of summer lingers as the breezes begin to tease with cool air. At the beginning of September, we know this is coming, even if it hasn’t yet arrived – transformation is coming.
Transformation can really only occur in the wake of something ending, or giving way. It is in the space after death or destruction where possibility opens up. Transformation comes out of a time of chaos, however long or brief, that emerges when something is no longer one thing and has yet to become another.
I often speak about the new moon being a time of rest and rejuvenation. As the darkest night of the month, it can also be a time to rediscover that which has been obscured, undervalued, or demonized in our world. Chaos makes many of us uncomfortable. We actively avoid it and yet it is often the most powerful component of change.
In the swirling heavens of the early universe where celestial beings were breaking and coalescing, amongst the turbulent destruction and construction of matter occurring at the atomic level, it would have been hard to see any gentle, rejuvenating cycles or patterns of life.
Similarly, our rapidly changing planet has been pulled away from the steady predictability of the seasons we know. Every autumn henceforth in our lifetime may bring a different experience of change and transmutation. Something different and new is needed, so the earth will do what she needs to release as many new possibilities as she can for life to survive. Destruction and tumult make that possible.
The challenge will be to find the calm within the chaos. This is an exercise in surrender. When chaos emerges, we feel destabilized because the established patterns are gone or shaken. New patterns have yet to form because there are so many new potential approaches to life emerging. As things fall apart, the future opens up. We can panic, or we can let go of what was and look toward what we might do instead. When we are faced with a great unraveling, a number of broken strands swirl around us. This is the time to grab the broken strands and begin reweaving. Any one of us could choose to start reweaving. It will need to be many of us. It could be you.
The dark moon is a time of in-between – not the new sliver of moon, nor the oldest aging moon. It is the moment of transition. It’s a gentle reminder of the wilder, liminal moments in life where hope and despair hold out their hand and ask us to align our next steps with one or the other. Every month we have this invitation to let go and see what new opportunities have come our way.
Destruction and unpredictable events can result in feelings of grief, failure, loss and uncertainty. Letting go of what once was and surrendering to the moment opens you up to these feelings. It also allows you to find the calm in the center of the storm. Chaos is not only life coming apart at the seams, it is also life teeming with new potential, flurries of energy seeking new channels. Trust yourself to know how to join in and if you feel the panic rising, follow your joy. There is no rule that remaking the world ought to be joyless, in fact to do otherwise would be antithetical to the emergence of life. Biologists are increasingly abandoning the “survival of the fittest” concept for something more dynamic and relational which includes both cooperation and competition.
Surrendering to chaos is one practice we will never “perfect”. By its very nature, navigating the transformation of chaos calls for engagement with rebirth and re-creating where there is no predetermined outcome. The invitation is simply to let go of what was and see what can be remade. Even choosing not to do anything is an action with consequences. Chaos will arrive regardless of your desires, it is your choice how you engage.
On this new moon in a time of seasonal change, you might consider what feels out of control or disruptive. Do you want to assert control and bring things back to how they were? Do you want to duck out and avoid? Could you hold in the discomfort and look for new opportunities? If this isn’t a time of personal disruption you might take time to reaffirm your personal values and goals—they can be your North star in a tumultuous time and can point you to which strands of life you choose to reweave. It’s tempting to pick back up the familiar threads of life, but often the storm has occurred because a change is needed. While easier said than done for most of us, the next time things fall apart, consider yourself invited to get cozy with chaos, and watch for where the new opportunities coalesce. The future is yours to make.