One Month Ago:
At 5:20 Monday morning, our south lawn was draped in stark moon shadows. Long, dramatic, angular ghosts in black and silver, jutting out to the east of every outbuilding, every oak tree, even the slender zinnias. The sight was truly stunning. I had never seen the farm so zig-zagged by shadow and light. The full moon was still lit fiercely, almost too bright to gaze at directly, and now perched high in the satiny black heavens, no longer eclipsed. I don’t remember even a stitch of a breeze that Monday morning. All the animals were asleep except the barn cats and Klaus. He was bounding around in the moonlight, swirling our ankles and celebrating a new day. A new moon phase, too, though he didn’t know it.
A Few Hours Earlier:
Sunday night before, just as the swollen moon was growing that bloody rust around her edges and the eclipse was beginning, Handsome and I sat with Klaus in the barnyard, the one where we sometimes have outdoor movie nights with friends. We were in plastic Adirondack chairs facing east, toward the Talking Tree. The sky was black and breezy.
That night I had collapsed desperately into moon gazing, feeling more physically and emotionally drained than I had in months. So much of that previous week was spent shredded and crying, angry, deeply examining and weighing everything in my life (big stuff, friends, not what color to paint my kitchen). I watched the sky and measured my internal reactions, actively hoping that the full moon would bring the end of some unwelcome intensity. Breathed deeply.
The eclipse was amazing, of course. We sat in that barnyard and watched for a long time, trading cuddles with Klaus and holding hands more cautiously than normal. We saw a shooting star at the same moment and both made wishes. Probably breaking good-luck protocol, Handsome asked me what my wish was. “For everything to return to normal,” I answered honestly. This stung him, he said, because he thought everything was normal. And wonderful. I pulled my frayed orange blanket more tightly around my arms and flinched at a sticker that had found my ankle.
For all its beauty and intensity, that previous lunar cycle was rough. It coincided with my own personal lunar cycle, and the combination was almost too much. As life goes, this cosmic intersection happened alongside some unrelated (or maybe definitely related?) life events, external stressors that became much harder to cope with under these circumstances. My energy was both drained and exploding, which is bizarre, and everything was white hot, sharp, and painfully intense. Just like the full moon in those pre-dawn moments on Monday. The heated edge cast scary shadows on every part of my life.
That was a month ago. Our Super Moon. The Blood Moon that captured everyone’s attention in so many ways. That Monday morning in September, drained of all its color and gleaming fiercely, the moon got my heart and mind all churned up. And the difficulty continued for a few more weeks.
This morning in October, as we watched the moon rise full and bright again, everything is softer, gentler. The weather is cooler but not yet cold. Our windows are open and so is my heart again, finally. My thoughts and emotions are settled now and I feel stronger with this new perspective. We are enjoying a rebuilding in this house, and it feels pretty wonderful. I got my shooting-star wish that things would return to normal, except that having walked with eyes open through that bizarre month, things are better than normal now. Deliberateness brings lots of added beauty, you know?
Did you experience anything like this leading up to the Super Blood Moon? Did you notice the crystal clear dark-before-dawn that first Monday morning after the eclipse? Had you been through an exceptionally potent week (or month) leading up to it?
Our bodies are comprised of so much water, after all. If the ocean can be pulled by the moon, why would we be exempt? I have tried to rebel against this for a long time, but finally the rhythm makes sense. Finally the purpose seems a little more clear, the swell and retreat of energy, all the variations in between. Now, as long we stay centered in Love and navigate the waters honestly, I feel safe riding the waves and plumbing the depths. Who once said that an unexamined life is not worth living?
And one last note: Other life issues aside, I personally believe the color of your kitchen is kind of a big deal. ; ) Choose wisely.
“Summer ends and autumn comes,
and he who would have it otherwise
would have high tide always and a full moon every night.”