The Moon

Being a woman who seeks or quests, I wonder about many things as I go through this life. This year, I’m following a process with the moon. The Moon is My Calendar with April McMurtry is a study of the monthly journey of the moon across the sky and the influence it has on one’s life. It emphasizes a woman’s cycles as she embraces the cycles of the moon. Throughout history, humans have invented various calendars. The moon as a calendar was used long before the Gregorian calendar, a solar calendar system. I am not going to chart the history of the various calendars that societies have created. What I am wondering about is my own relationship with the moon.

I remember, years ago, looking at the moon on one of those rare clear evenings in San Francisco. I was missing my sister who had moved to Hawaii. I remember thinking that “we all share the same moon.” With that realization, I felt a connection to her through seeing the same moon.

In 1995, I had a some big challenges and a moon fascination it seems. In recounting a journal passage:

If the moon could talk to me, what would she say?
“I love you” would be her first words. ” My wisdom is your wisdom. I dwell within you as the light even in the midst of the dark. I will never fail you. No need to fear. I am constant as the sea. We work together harmoniously. There is a good and true purpose for you, for me. I am a reminder that all is right. Don’t look at the smallness; see the vastness, the bigger picture–it’s all around you and within. Within of itself is too narrow–consider the whole, be inclusive. Cultivate an awareness of me–study me; work with me; play with me. Then observe us together as a team. Let me be your light through all of the dark nights. Remember even when brother sun shines, I’m with you. Even then. Rest now.

1995 Journal

I must have needed her, the qualities of the moon then. Her mystery, her darkness and her illumination. Her retreat and her full expression. I must need her again today. The dreamy state that she creates as she journeys through her cycles. And yet, the grounded quality as I unite with her in her waxing and waning. In our culture, we are steeped in artificial stimulus–bright lights, big cities, eternal television and media influences. There is the consumer mindset–I need more to be happy. The moon helps one to see what is necessary in the present time. She returns us to the cycles of initiation, gestation, fruition; finally, retreat and diminishment. Then we begin again and with each new cycle there is the opportunity to deepen our connections to ourselves and all that is.

As I write this blog, the moon is a waxing quarter moon in the sign of Taurus. As the door opens wider for creativity, we find that the moon is exalted in Taurus. “Astrologers describe the Moon as “exalted” in Taurus, which means the qualities of fecundity, nurturing, sustenance and fertility are most easily expressed.” In my life, I see fecundity as many new ideas coming my way…and the ability to nurture some of them into being while caring for myself. Isn’t that most important for any one of us? We care deeply for ourselves so that we can birth, sustain and share our gifts as we move more fully into the wholeness of our being.

Moon blessings to you.

Unfinished Business

When my friend, Carolyn, died in 2003, it was for me a generous (on her part) initiation into grief and loss.

In the final months of her life, Carolyn pondered the questions:  “What have I contributed?”  and “Did I do what I came here to do?”

My reply at the time was something like “Look at the people you’ve gathered around you.  Look at how they love you.  Isn’t that an amazing achievement?”

We tend to measure our success by the standards of a world that has defined success in terms of “how many toys you have when you die” and how much money you’ve accrued.

One’s life story is not so neat as a Hollywood ending or a well-scripted novel.  It’s a messy business with threads left dangling, unresolved issues, an apartment, room or house full of incomplete projects, and furniture, laundry, unreplied-to-letters, dishes in the sink, dreaded clutter.  There’s the ending that comes too soon before things are properly resolved or healed, put in order or even accepted.

In the small picture, everyone is not a hero.  And probably, it’s an unfair standard of measurement–heroic or not heroic.  One doesn’t often or always come out looking “good,” their life having been resolved by their dying.  Do you think that the works in progress that we are continue beyond this lifetime?  We can’t, though we might want to, make heroes of all of our dead.  They are the ancestors, but not necessarily of heroic stature.  I’ve been to  funerals where superstitiously or sentimentally or desirously, relatives and others search their memories to say something kind, albeit false regarding the dear departed.  Although tainted by loss, grief and fear these words don’t ring true.  Truth is a partial tale told under these sad circumstances.

When my mother-in-law died in 2007, for me there was a confusion of feelings.  I wondered why my feelings were so congested, constricted, why I couldn’t cry as forcefully as I thought that I should.  Was it because I was ignoring a large part of my experience with her?  So much had gone unspoken between us…she rivalled me for her son’s affection.  Finally, after our divorce, he was all hers.

What’s up to me is my part in the story.  A backwards look, a retrospective from the vantage point of a completion of sorts that occurs when someone dies.  And yes, let’s add a dose of compassion for this human condition.