Day 1370 – Day 1383
Last night I was gardening under the nearly full moon. As I gazed at her brilliance I thought of the last time I witnessed the full moon and the great distance I’ve travelled in this last lunar cycle.
The last full moon, I was driving home from a wonderful weekend in Seattle, filled with music, art, and new friends. I hit the most incredible downpour outside of Everett and hydroplaned on the freeway. I am grateful that there was nobody in the lane to my right as I swerved and regained traction of the road. I thought I had been destined for my grave.
Whenever I go to Washington, I pass through a town within an hour of my home, where someone I once loved chose to relocate from thousands of miles away – after ending his relationship with me. He lingers.
I’m always grateful to pass Lake Samish which nestles in the hills between Mount Vernon and Bellingham. It is a kind of physical border for me that guards my peace. As I rounded the last bend before Bellingham, the most brilliant light shimmered on the water. I looked in the rear view mirror, and rising above the mountain behind me was the full moon. Her glow felt like a benediction after all the hazards I had endured.
Last night, I was digging a trench, readying my plot for a season of growing. From a plot comes the food that sustains us and to a plot we will go, when our life is done. We become food for the worms that nourish the soil that grows the food for the next generation. And so it goes with this finite life that lasts only a precious few lunar cycles.
As I’ve dug down into the earth, I have often wondered what I might discover. I have visions of unearthing a body. This macabre fantasy is joined by tales told to me by others who have fears of bodies buried in the most innocent of places. It makes me realise that there is something archetypal in this story that we carry in our collective unconsciousness.
I don’t need to look in the earth for bones. From a ghost that lingers, are the bones that I have carried on my back.
I have wondered who I will be free to be, without the burden of those bones.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing – personal writing – during this past lunar cycle. I have given words to what needs to be expressed and remembered, forgiven that which needs to be forgiven, and honoured what is to be honoured. I don’t always understand what is going on at a soul level, but the subconscious magic works its way to my consciousness through image and symbol and the meaning-making that can be made through writing. I have painted a lot in the past year but the Word is the land through which I must eventually travel in order to do the work I’m here to do in this life.
I’ve also been reading some old passages about the one who was once flesh upon those bones. I am awed by the poignant beauty of my own writing.
Every transformation is the culmination of a long and continuous process that goes deeper and deeper, and we keep thinking we’ve arrived only to find our journey is not over. But in every journey, there are liminal moments. Last night, I was alone under the enormous full moon and I felt a Oneness with that which is bigger than all of us. I have witnessed, with consciousness, the moon’s journey through the sky and her nightly changes.
And she has witnessed mine.
Bathed in her glow, I was aware of what was passing into legend with the fullness of the moon. There has been a gentle peace in setting those bones to rest. Free of that weight, I am able to stand upright, and feel my heart, once again, filled with love.
For what are you most grateful, right now?