Harvest Moon Meditation

Lighting Your Inner Lantern

I sit this morning with a steaming mug of tea.  Must be Fall!

Our meditation circle reconvened this week after summer hiatus.  We are blessed with new faces. As I light the candles, I feel the warmth of being back together.

After getting re-acquainted, we lower the lights and play Marina Rayes' Liquid Silk, native flutes weaving through the sounds of nature.  It's perfect for conjuring the Spirit of the Earth.

We anchor ourselves to the warm womb of Mother Earth, progressively releasing accumulated tension. Allowing gravity to settle our bodies and minds. Drawing vitality up through our energetic roots, we inhabit our bodies with fresh awareness.

I feel a little rusty.  Did I forget this or that?  Is everyone comfortable?  How many of us are still struggling to get out of our heads, smile.

Soon my voice ceases and we are left with the music.

The woodwind flute, lending a voice to longing.

The echoing notes of the loon on a misty morning.

The call of the owl through the forest hush.

A stream splashing over stones.

So soothing for our (formerly frayed) nerves.

As we sink in more deeply, the roof seems to sail away into the moonlit sky, leaving us exposed to the late summer whispers of nightfall.  The trees cast long shadows, back-lit by the fat harvest moon.

The Great Mother herself  is weaving  us into communion.  Like winding yarn into a ball, she encircles us in strands of red, orange and yellow light -- over, around, and underneath us. 

The energy of the group, re-ignited.

Such is the way when we recede into silence.   Tethered to the ground of our being, our awareness opens, shining like the brilliant moonlight spilling across lawns and ledges.  May this inner lantern shine for us as the nights lengthen and the year wanes.


All are welcome to join us next Monday evening, September 23.  Details can be found under Workshops above.