Sending love to everyone as the moon waxes to full on Sunday morning, marking the end of the six week eclipse tunnel. It has been an incredibly tender time for me, as I navigated and released layers of trauma that were hidden from my consciousness, including from my own birth and the birth of my daughter via cesarean section. I quite literally felt and remembered swimming in the amniotic fluid as well as trying to scream for my daughter as the surgeon cut open my belly and pulled her from my body (I was fully anesthetized.)
Many of you have also been swimming in the watery depths or sailing the hazy waters of energetic and emotional patterns that were formed before you had conscious choice over your response to the world. This may look like fear or grief or an addiction that does not want to let go. It might be the ending of a significant relationship or the looming death of a parent. It might be a recurring issue that still feels slippery or opaque. Whatever you have been facing, know that the pain and discomfort you feel also holds within it the medicine and healing. Once we say yes to fully feeling whatever our body or heart is asking us to feel, most of the healing is complete. It may not appear that way to the human part of us that is impatient and frustrated as a process unfolds in its own divine timing, but getting to the point where we surrender to the wisdom of the pain and the unknown marks the beginning of the completion, even before the completion manifests.
I’ve also noticed during this eclipse passage a deep arising and healing of wounds carried by the feminine and through the maternal lineages. This is regardless of one’s gender identity. Thank you to all the courageous souls who are willing to honor, respect, heal, nurture, and embody the feminine within. There are many markers in this full moon that point to a continued arising of the feminine–sometimes in its dark, primordial, and wrathful form, which is, in fact, the energy of destruction in service to life. Know that this makes way for a deeper healing of the masculine within and without and our ability as a people to move further into balance and unity with each other and the planet.
Wherever this reading finds you–in the throes of death or the birth of the new–please hold yourself as tenderly as you would a child crying for its parent. Your heart and mine are so worthy of this gentle light.
The moon is full tonight
an illustration for sheet music,
an image in Matthew Arnold
glimmering on the English Channel,
or a ghost over a smoldering battlefield
in one of the history plays.
It’s as full as it was
in that poem by Coleridge
where he carries his year-old son
into the orchard behind the cottage
and turns the baby’s face to the sky
to see for the first time
the earth’s bright companion,
something amazing to make his crying seem small.
And if you wanted to follow this example,
tonight would be the night
to carry some tiny creature outside
and introduce him to the moon.
And if your house has no child,
you can always gather into your arms
the sleeping infant of yourself,
as I have done tonight,
and carry him outdoors,
all limp in his tattered blanket,
making sure to steady his lolling head
with the palm of your hand.
And while the wind ruffles the pear trees
in the corner of the orchard
and dark roses wave against a stone wall,
you can turn him on your shoulder
and walk in circles on the lawn
drunk with the light.
You can lift him up into the sky,
your eyes nearly as wide as his,
as the moon climbs high into the night.