Some thirteen hundred years ago, the monk Bede, writing in northern England, observed: On emnihtes dæġ, ðæt is ðonne se dæġ and séo niht ġelíċe lange béoþ. On the day of the equinox (emnight’s day), that is when the day and night are equally long. Em-, or efen-: even, balanced. The Old English form efen-niht also appears.
A good old word, emnight, one that could be brought back to describe the energy of balance. Like many magics, it’s generally quiet, behind-the-scenes work.
But you’re not doing anything, gripe the critics. And if your only criterion of doing is visible action, then you’re right. Fortunately for us all, visible on one plane may not have much to show on another plane.
Emnight energy doesn’t seek to move mountains so much as to ally itself with the inward moment. It’s a time of transition, of change-over, of inward shifting before any outer change manifests. If you like, it’s seeking out a scale that’s hovering in balance, one you have access to, even if (or especially if) no one else does, and applying your thumb ever so gently when you get the nudge, tilting things subtly in your favor. So much easier when there’s balance, than when the full weight of things piles up against you. There’s more than one reason why the equinox is a time of initiation in orders both magical and mundane.
What will I initiate? Meaning what will I begin, but also what will I welcome, ignite, kindle, set in motion, dedicate, vow, empower?
Do I know? And knowing, (how) do I choose to act?
A Druid Way 