June 23, 2013

Lessons from My Friend, Supermoon.


It’s not just a full moon.

It’s a super full moon which, for me, translates into: heavy-metal, pour it on, emotional vortex of channeling Shiva, a dancing whirling dervish, a Tasmanian devil, pirouetting in a Black Swan-like hell.

I parted my hair on the left to give my emotional and creative right a little break.

I needed tinfoil to sublimate.

It’s not helping.

My emotions are running even higher than usual and I clash with the wind.

I cringe at the sound of birds. They are singing off key. Crows have appeared today, squawking and swooping to the spiritual unrest. It’s a malefic war between the unseen.

It feels as if there is something wrong with me and then I remember, I didn’t pace myself well this week. I didn’t find enough pockets to hide in nor sufficiently sniff the grass. My garden shovel misses me. The flowers wept because I didn’t tend to their quiet needs. Instead my focus was so off, I stepped in bunny poo while retrieving my chips being eaten by vulture sized crows.

These are the lessons I have to keep learning: Stop. Slow down. Hide.

I hate people as much as I love them. I love to be with people but I need to regenerate my heart. I see myself as a hybrid human. I enjoy people but need quiet and nature to refuel. If I don’t find a balance, I shrivel into a nasty pile of wet tissues.

I plummeted rather disastrously in the last 24 hours. And you’d think by now, being a half a century old, I’d figure out a thing or two.

Hell, no.

I’ve opened several metaphorical doors and now I’m holding onto my turquoise raft as I navigate another turbulent storm.

I nearly capsized, but I’m okay.

I had to focus my emotions into words: Don’t yell at me in all caps! I like exclamations marks but after 20, I refuse to lower my standards and give into the verbal abuse.

I can taste the saltiness in my heart as I dance with the liquidity moon.

The moon is plucking the harps strings of my feminine sensitivity. I am slowly gaining balance with my masculine and feminine. They strive for harmony.

The moonlight penetrates the darkest shadows and while most rejoice and dance in the moon, I have propped open an umbrella to easy the surge of emotions. I find comfort in quiet and still let her healing shine. The magnificent orb seemingly skims the earth. In my hand, I touch and sip the delicious vanilla-fruit-like complexity. Vintage: five billion years. I pour her essences through my pores. I savor her brilliance and let her slice off my angst millimeter by millimeter.

The intensity of the healing power cleanses. My pores are open windows. The sheer curtains flutter in the breeze; an osmosis takes place while under a universal microscope.

I also wish I had more chocolate. Somehow, it helps. It is medicinal. Every household should have a stash next to the band aides of life inflecting lessons.

My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished two bags of M&M’s and a chocolate cake. I feel better already. ~ Dave Barry

I prefer European, dark chocolate. Succulent. Mysterious. Deep. Subtle. Complex.

In everything, I like real and not the sugar coated bullshit. In a pinch, M&M’s and chocolate cake will work well.

Chocolate is a divine, celestial drink, the sweat of the stars, the vital seed, divine nectar, the drink of the gods, panacea and universal medicine. ~ Geronimo Piperni, quoted by Antonio Lavedán.

Each night, as the moon grows fuller, she calls me closer and we have a tête-à-tête with my heart and how it weaves through my mind. Waves of pearl like wisdom stream into my eyes.

She’s gentle but persistent.

Earlier today, I started to clean each room. Slowly plucking through the carnage. Sorting the decay. Casting aside shoes too small. Tees impossibly tattered; thread bare takes on new meaning. I couldn’t even turn them into dust rags. Dust bunnies would rejoice as they gleefully escaped.

I found my mermaid’s tail stuffed in a closet. I let her swim free. More memories filtered as I smelled the scent of Provence lavender growing tall because of the monsoon like weather we’ve had.

A hug right now, would feel like a porcupine attack.

I even confuse me.

I wish I could wear earplugs, but my ears lay flat like a cat ready to pounce.

I thought I turned off most electronics, yet I still hear a dull buzz. Never mind, it’s my blood running through my veins and sensing the vibrations in the air. I have to step back and sink into a well-worn perch. Fuzzy socks in place. My fingers poised as I translate emotions into English.

Words are not enough, but it is all I have as well as a regal, super full Moon watching out for me.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments; changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections. ~ Tahereh Mafi.


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Ed: B. Bemel

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