(Abrupt!) Shift of Seasons

The fall has been glorious -- flaming foliage, geese in formation overhead, pumpkins on the vine, flowering sage.

But (!) yesterday I came out of Whole Foods and it was snowing.  I'm standing there like an idiot, blocking the exit, blinking and squinting because surely this must be rain, right?  I move out of the way and people are exiting, exclaiming:  Ach! ... Really? ... Is this a dream?... I'm not ready for snow!  So funny really -- my own resistance mirrored back to me while I wrap my shawl more closely around my hunched shoulders.

The kids, of course, have no such resistance.  One boy, maybe ten years old, is wearing hot pink knee socks with his sandals and soccer shorts.  He's not rushing to the car. When I comment, Nice socks, he grins.  Mom and I exchange appreciative glances. (There was a stretch when my daughter Michelle went everywhere dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.)

By the time I get home the sun is shining.  Long shadows are falling across the back yard.  The sky is opening as the leaves fall on the lawn.

A perfect evening for (organic) butternut squash soup.

As I peel and chop, I find comfort in yielding to the inevitable.

Super Full Moon Eclipse Wisdom

Last night our Moon Goddess Meditation Circle reconvened for our third season.  I spent the day preparing, grateful for new beginnings.

How to articulate what happens among us?  Gathering cushions, encircling my coffee-table altar with chairs, popping corn, pulling out the tea tray, printing out relevant info from my favorite astrologers -- all this is easy.

It's expressing what happens when I place my hands on the goddesses that has me calling on ... is there a Spirit of Putting-Things-into-Words?  Which Muse ushers the elusive ineffable into comprehensible sentences?

The dusky-orange, eclipsed full harvest moon of the night before reigned over our evening. Like so many of us, I was transfixed as the shadow of the earth encroached on the moon's brilliance. Until it was overshadowed; then it hung in the sky like a jewel-- dark orange, mottled, shaded in mystery.

The esoteric wisdom is:  That's our shadow -- the collective unconscious of humanity -- all those parts of ourselves that we deny, hidden within the recesses of our psyches, projected onto la luna.

On any given night we have the the divine masculine force of creation (the sun) reflected in the luminous sacred feminine force of creation (the moon).  The passage of the earth between these two is marked by the moon's monthly waxing and waning. These rhythms reflect the interplay of the masculine and feminine at the heart of creation.

But on the eclipse we have the earth directly lining up between the sun and moon, to dramatic effect.

The moon was a super full moon, closer to the earth than it has been in 33 years.  It won't be this close again until 2033.  So full-moon energies are amped up way more than usual.  The gravitational pull on ocean tides and our bodies -- composed of 50 - 75% fluid -- is significantly stronger.  Tides of emotion run high in the several days before and after such a potent lunation.

Have you noticed?  Anything going on in your relationships?  Things falling apart?  More volatility than usual?  It's the play of planets on the psyche.

In an eclipse configuration, the Earth plays a different role in the monthly wax/wane dance on the celestial stage. She glides between the sun and full moon, casting her shadow across the face of our sacred feminine star, making it appear to wane dramatically in just minutes -- from full to crescent. Once her entire visage is veiled in shadowy orange, she hangs like a rare gem, a darkly luminous orb in the night sky.

Her aura was still infusing the early twilight as my guests arrived for meditation.  Many had seen and marveled at the moon. She was rising again as we checked in after our summer break.  Updates included news about our daughters:  Joan's was married over the weekend; Cindy's will marry shortly; Kathy's is engaged; mine has found her wedding dress.  Paula's daughter moved to Denver. Mary's back from cruising the Mediterranean, Carol's divorce is final; Jen's anniversaries of the heart are coming up this week. We welcome Maureen's friend Sarah.

Later, we settle.  Awareness of breathing ... long pauses ... letting tension melt.  We imagine ourselves on the side of a mountain, watching the moon rise, our bodies bridging earth and sky. It's not much of a stretch of the imagination because the moon feels as potent as last night.

I play the crystal bowl, a treasured gift, to help us access realms beyond the mind.  The sound healing reverberates through us and out the open windows, merging with  high-frequency lunar vibrations. When I stop, I place my hands on either side of the humming bowl, without touching.   The energy is tangible, charging my hands.  And that's when I realize how the moon felt the night before -- just like this shimmering crystal bowl, radiating fine, highly-charged particles of power.

As I place my hands on each woman, the dark-orange moon looms in my awareness. The energies run like myriad streams -- threads, fragments, and hints suggest something that wants to be known.   A message, veiled, just like she was.  Breathing, I sink in more deeply.

Finally the streams flow together in a confluence of understanding.  Fleeting energetic impressions coalesce into a pristine pool of clarity.

This is her message:

See how beautiful I am as I reflect your shadow passions.  Why hide them from yourselves and each other?  You've been taught to splinter yourselves into acceptable and unacceptable, when every aspect of your being is of inestimable value. Your feelings are meant to flow through you; they are not meant to be hidden.  By honoring the truth they express, you balance yourself in the same way day and night face one another as equals on the equinox.

Behold your shadow!  Gather up the lost and hidden fragments of your selves and bring them into fullness like mine.   I mirror your shadow consciously, to show you the dark face of the Goddess, brilliant and beautiful.  Embrace me and you embrace your whole self, poised as you are between the swirling forces of sun and moon -- ancient archetypes for the powers of creation.  Balance these within.  Revel in the new consciousness being born within you now.

We bring our sacred circle outside to close our evening under the silent stars.

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Radiating Our Light

At a recent gathering of the Moon Goddess Circle, in honor of the Summer Solstice, we sat outside for our meditation. I thought it would be perfect, on this longest day of light, to radiate our light.

I read The Little Soul and the Sun, a children's story by Neale Donald Walsh, author of the Conversations with God series.  This profound story invites us to imagine ourselves as beings of light -- innocent, curious and adventurous little souls -- prior to being born into our lives.

As we settle onto cushions, stretch out on the grass, recline in Adirondack chairs and light candles, I share a passage from Walking in Light, by Sandra Ingerman:

You are spirit.  You are Light.  You are one with the power of the universe.... go within and experience a flame of light growing.  As you continue to breathe, this light grows, flows and radiates throughout your cells.  This is effortless, for your true nature is light....

Then we allow ourselves to shine like stars, radiating light in all directions.  I describe for the group how their energy fields are expanding and overlapping as the vibration rises.

One of our goddesses is preparing for surgery; so, as we had discussed earlier, we quietly move into the healing room.  She reclines on the healing table while the others encircle her.  I suggest where each may place her hands and guide us in maintaining our radiance and seeing, in our mind's eye, our receiving friend in all her light and strength.  I murmur pre-surgical intentions and support the circle of healers with my own light as it flows through my hands.

The energy in the room is electric with the power of these women.

Later, after everyone is gone and the house is quiet, I go outside to dismantle our solstice altar.  I find that the altar, now that it's dark, perfectly mirrors our experience!

 Each individual radiating her light....

And then merging with others to exponentially expand the power, the beauty, the healing grace.

The play of light and shadow illustrates just how our fields overlapped and merged.

I take a moment under the crescent moon to register my amazement.

These outward reflections of inward experiences affirm that I'm not making this all up!  What happened here tonight is true.

Namaste -- the divine light in me honors the divine light in you.

Communion

Three of us are spending the weekend at our friend's new home on the edge of a meadow that inclines toward a deep wood.  A sea of long grasses, wild daisies, and purple thistles wave in the soft breeze.

I have pictures of the woods, but they don't capture it's deep soul.  Rock walls weave and tumble alongside canopied trails.  Boulders hunch their massive shoulders.  Trees soar skyward.

It feels like a cathedral in here.  I wonder if architects of old-world churches  aspired to imitate places like these, where we naturally feel reverence.

Vaulting arches, graceful columns, and lofty domes can only hope to capture the energy of the deep forest.


We devise a simple ritual expressing our acceptance of something lost and welcoming infinite potential -- untold possibilities -- to flow into each one of us and our sisterhood. Papers feed flames until only ashes remain. We carry the ashes into our sacred environs, releasing them into the running waters.

The current whisks them away. As if their mission is urgent.

The waterways of the earth are her veins and arteries, carrying our offering across the body of the planet.  This stream -- infused with our intentions for wholeness and healing -- will join other tributaries on it's journey to the great oceans where our gift may be received by the world.

Thus the land receives our sacramental offering to the Spirit of All Life.  Our modest ceremony connects us to mysterious creative forces in ways we have yet to appreciate.

 

Something was initiated today, in communion with these treasured friends and and Mother Earth. Releasing ashes of something that once was, with full hearts and healing intentions for all, somehow quickens the phoenix waiting to be born.

Amen!

Turtle Wisdom

A fish cannot drown in water.

A bird does not fall in air.

Each creature God made

must live in its own true nature.

Mechthild of Magdeburg

Early morning sun filters through the leafy canopy outside.  Myriad greens --  sunlit chartreuse and shadowed emerald -- float on the late-May breeze.

I toss the covers off and ten minutes later I'm out the door.  Cool air  exquisite on bare arms.

The moment I round the corner that opens onto the pond, my body viscerally relaxes.  My mind expands with the view.  My entire being knows -- this is the place I stop and sit. 

I approach the dock with soft steps.  Still,  a duck emerges from the rushes and glides away.  The birds put up a fuss, as if I'm a foreign invader.

You'd think they know me by now?

I'm greeted by a dozen turtles!  I've never seen so many at once, here in the water at my feet.

Several larger ones are embedded in the cloudy bottom.  Foraging? Pale lines criss-cross their backs like crooked tic-tac-toe boards. Suspended in the water, three babies stare at me with their tiny wizened faces. Their shells are about the size of a compact, ringed with bright orange markings. Their little paws hang motionless as they regard me with curiosity. 

I think.  I mean, who knows what they're thinking?

Several other triangular-shaped heads dot the smooth surface -- a constellation of turtles.

The ones on the bottom rise lazily and poke their heads up too.  There's a thin layer of dust on their shells.  Their movements are proverbially slow, until I raise my hand to lower my sunglasses so they can see my eyes (ridiculous).  But when I move, they scurry away. One of them slips into the recesses of the mucky bottom.  Later, she re-emerges; realizing, perhaps, that I'm no threat.

They look like a bunch of wizened old souls, ancient in their self-possession.  Navigating the borderline of earth and sky, heads pointed toward the sun, bodies in the watery realm.  They burrow in the cloudy depths and sun themselves on shoreline rocks.

I  know them because I'm born in the sign of Cancer -- the crab.  Like these turtles, I wear an energetic shell -- a persona, fraught with defenses -- a shield the world has taught me I need.

Lately though, everywhere I turn, there's a lesson on the power of defenselessness.

By this, I mean dropping habitual defenses and venturing into the mucky-bottomed shadows of the deep psyche.

It's like hauling buried treasure up from the bottom of the sea.  The chest's hinges are rusted; the lock is encrusted.  But despite whatever made us lock away some part of our soul, or  seal off a terrible affront to our being, the treasure -- our essence, our innocence -- remains. 

Because God created us in innocence, it cannot be destroyed.

Behold your Innocence

Feel it glowing within

like rainbow-hued gems glistening in the sun

sprawled on the deck

of the ship of your soul. 


These turtles teach us to plumb the depths and to accept the light.  When we plumb our own depths and accept our own light, we find that we are as alive and vital, ancient and new-born, wise and playful as these humble master teachers.

Imbolc: We're Half-Way There

...to spring, we're half-way to spring.  Although you'd never know it here in New England today.

Another snow day.

Yet Imbolc marks the half-way point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox.  It originated as a Celtic fire festival celebrating the first stirrings of spring.*  Although we have no outward signs of these, perhaps we can feel something sprouting within.

These blooms were wrapped tight within their papery shells just three weeks ago, dormant bulbs.  Although the earth is resting now, deep within, seeds of life are stirring.  

In winter, we look for solace from the cold and bluster.  We find it in our friendships -- our circles of support and laughter.  We find it also in circles that can hold our pain and doubt, reminding us always that we are larger than these.  We find it in winter rituals like planting bulbs and feeding the foraging birds.

So, although my medicine wheel lies buried under snow, we find medicine for our souls in the long winter.  How do you soothe yourself?  How do you extend yourself to others who may be hibernating like the Great Bear constellation not in our winter skies?

Now is the time for cleaning out closets, desks and drawers, purging the old and making room for what's waiting to be born.  It's a time for dreaming, envisioning, planning.  As long as you're snowed in, go within.

I'm brewing a cup of tea and eyeing my meditation cushion.  The hush of the day is perfect for an inner sojourn.

Attune to your inner landscape.  May it radiate with the bright light of your awareness as you traverse the inner realms to unearth your buried treasures.


* Imbolc -- Starting Clean and Clear, Llewellyn's Witches' Datebook 2015, Deborah Blake, p. 37

Solstice Ashes

This morning on my walk I have a special mission:  to complete a winter solstice ritual.

I'm carrying a zip-lock bag of ashes in my pocket. These ashes are are all that remain of the obstacles to happiness that went up in flames on the longest night of the year.

We gathered that evening to celebrate the return of the light.  Although we still have a New England winter to navigate, at least the days are growing longer.  We welcome the gradual return of the light after the darkest days of the year.

According to ancient wisdom, when the sun appears to stand still on the winter solstice -- that pause when one cycle ends and another begins -- our choices are more potent than at any other point in the cycle.  So we made some  deliberate choices.

First: What to release?

We looked back at the year, assessing what hadn't worked for us.  This could be personal or professional, like a troubling relationship at home or work.   Anyone dealing with an impossible teenager, co-worker or boss?  Yes, heads nod.   Are we holding onto old grievances?  We looked at frustrating circumstances and asked ourselves: What, in me, is contributing to the problem?  Long silence. Can I let that go? Am I holding onto an inherited belief like, Good things happen to other people, not me?  Because really, is that true?  Or maybe I neglected to draw up a strategic plan, to ask for assistance or to follow through.  Did I procrastinate, make excuses, or rationalize? Uh, maybe, smile.  

Quietly, in the candlelight of our solstice altar, we wrote what we were willing to release on slips of paper.  Then we went outside and each one struck a match, igniting her intention to let these things go. The darkness of the longest night of the year was interrupted by the dancing flames of our willingness to shift, the same way the earth shifted, in that very hour, to winter.

Our next deliberate choice?  What to embrace in the new cycle.

We left the papery ashes in the bin on the deck, went back inside and settled ourselves around the candle-lit room -- sitting cross-legged on cushions, lying down on blankets, in chairs or against the wall with pillows supporting the lower back -- and went into deep meditation. 

Soothing music weaved around the room as I led the group in releasing tension from soles to scalp. Then we traveled within, divine light illuminating the way, to the deepest level of our being, where the light of our core essence resides. Emerging from this space of inner light, we articulated our intentions for the upcoming cycle.  

To encourage daring and expansion I read: 

THE VISION QUEST

The Self is not a known territory
But a wilderness
Too often we forget that.
Too often we reach the boundaries of what we know 
About ourselves and turn back.  Now is a time to push past those boundaries,
And begin a quest for the unknown genius
That lives within you.*

We wrote out big dreams and down-to-earth practical steps necessary to bring them to fruition.  We noted that not just the solstice but the lunar and solar alignments of this night support new beginnings.  The new moon in Capricorn and the sun moving into Capricorn are decidedly not airy-fairy.  These energies are ambitious, responsible, efficient, disciplined and practical.  

Then we planted literal seeds, a quiet ritual, to ground our intentions.  Gently embedding the seeds in the fragrant potting soil, fingers in the loamy earth, reflect the creation tenderly taking root within each of us.

This morning I released the powdery ashes into a sunlit stream, completing the ritual as promised. Some of them went with the rushing current; some got caught in a small spiraling eddy, a branch and some leaves, but I watched until every last fine particle joined the larger flow, bobbing over rocks and around delicate crisps of ice. 

These ashes, I thought, represent something troubling, limiting or sabotaging that had once been an active, perhaps even destructive energy.  Maybe it was judgment wreaking havoc in relationships. Maybe it was procrastination, causing one missed opportunity after another.  Maybe it was chronic people-pleasing, undermining self-worth. Perhaps one of us in the solstice circle determined to pry loose the grip of an addiction, to take back her power over her own choices.  Perhaps someone decided to seek help in overcoming her fear of intimacy, committing to self-awareness around why she mistakenly defends against the very thing she wants.  I honored all the unknown choices made by our circle. These negative patterns that had been active in each of our lives had been transmuted in the fire, reduced to ash, dormant like the earth. Now they're washing downstream to fertilize the earth, enabling buds to burst forth along this stream bed in the spring. Releasing the old makes room for new dynamism to flow in.

Our willingness to uproot these, and to supplant with our aspirations, grounded in practical action, were the potent choices we made on solstice night.  It's not too late for you to do so too!  On the solstice, the new moon was dark.  As it waxes, join in -- releasing what you're so tired of struggling with and embracing your dreams and desires. As the moon swells toward full, feel your own fullness.  

What will arise from your ashes?

*The Vision Quest by Paul Ferrini.