Pray to the Moon when She is round,
Luck with you will then abound,
What you seek for shall be found
On the sea or solid ground.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Hyperborean Moon: Sleeping Worms & Their Woo

Sleeping Worm Sigil for a Hyperborean Moon.
Sleeping Worm Sigil for a Hyperborean Moon.

By noon the sigil was complete. Normally this is not done until the evening of the Esbat, just before the making & baking are coming to a close, but the Moon, or the Worms, or their Woo (or all of the above) was strong. Very strong. I saw the sigil days in advance -- on the same day in fact, that a friend on the other side of the continent dreamt of pulling back a loamy crust to discover earthworms. This is noteworthy in itself, but even moreso because on another day in early March, her husband wrote a piece about worms (accompanied by his always beautiful paintings). Earlier that week, prompted by toads & salamanders, I wrote about worms to another animist, but not here where anyone could read or know of it. The wriggly memories had lingered all that week. Needless to say, I was surprised by the parallels. (Although by now, I shouldn't be.) Oh, that Web... Oh, those worms.

Worms. They are sort of dreadful -- their smell is, anyway -- yet loveable. They are also quite requisite for the most of us, if not the all of us. Dreadfully requisite. Loveably dreadful.

Why are they talking to us?

...And what the helvella am I going to do with all these sigils?

I cannot explain these things. I just do.


A Hyperborean Moon cake.
A Hyperborean Moon cake.

It was a strong Moon indeed. Many intense things were happening to friends while I planned for the Esbat. I anticipated this Full Moon with an unusual composure, a certainty. I knew this cake almost as soon as the sigil, which never happens -- not without much thought & discussion (otherwise known as "hemming & hawing"). This cake arrived as the sigils do: Flash! Make it! Make it just like this! My vision showed me chocolate bundt, segmented, like an earthworm with a round, red velvet core for the Red Root Chakra (chakras, really?) & be sure to cover it with snow... 

Slice of Sleeping Worm,  who-stole-the-chakra cake.
Slice of Sleeping Worm,
who-stole-the-chakra cake.
Of course, baking is tricky work & I have never made a bundt in my life. So my round, "Red Root" did not manifest. Instead, the core migrated about under pressure & temperature & leavening, creating what looked strangely like a red earthworm, coiling up in the soil. Ah, you see, those worms, they are tricky -- even when they are sleeping. The unintentional end result was closer to my sigil than the vision which, I suppose, was just as it should have been.

The offering? A slice of Hyperborean Sleeping Worm Moon Cake & a glass of Chambord. We shared some together & gave thanks. Lady Moon arrived on the scene moments after we closed the sliding door: large, round, golden & very, very strong. Strong enough to draw us back into the cold for photos. Strong enough to draw the reclusive neighbor onto her balcony. 

Under the influence of the Moon (& perhaps something more), she crouched on her fingertips & the balls of her feet like a gryphon, nightgown draping across the wooden floor. Peering at us through the lattice, she exclaimed, 

"Hey, did you see the Moon?!?" 
"Yes. I was just taking photos, fabulous, isn't it?
"Do you eat cake?"
"Do you eat cake?"
"Cake... do you eat it?"
"Cake?!? Of course I eat cake!"
"Would you like a slice?..."

I handed her the slice in the hallway where she was perched on the stairs, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. I offhandedly remarked that I bake every Full Moon, but I really don't think she absorbed that bit of information. She was altogether too interested in cake & chatting up children. That's fine with me. Just share the Love, in whatever way you can.

Later, after the children were sleeping soundly, I began to sing, but I was so very tired. Hubby & I curled up on the end of the bed, bathing our faces in the Moonlight. I don't know how long we lingered there, feeling those rays break the frosty windowpane. It could have been an hours, or perhaps only minutes. When I began twitching like a dreaming dog, my gentle partner coaxed me awake & tucked me in for the night... Just share the Love, in whatever way you can.

At 2:30, I wakened once more. The Moon had moved from behind the hemlock tree & shone again upon my skin. The skeleton cat, drawn by the light, curled up beside my face to share the Moonlight with me & my pillow. Just share the Love, in whatever way you can.

The Hyperborean Moon, above a frosty window pane.
The Hyperborean Moon above a frosty window pane.


Anonymous said...

Lovely. As always.

Anonymous said...

Oh how beautiful, looking in! It shone in here, too.

Anonymous said...

Let's hope I now managed to get thro the comments hoop. I love these spring worms ... and the vibrances of the correspondences -- dog emergency must go

Anonymous said...

Hi again, friend's dog wanted to be taken out! I love your sketch of the sleeping worm, and the two of you in the moons ray and the Alaskan frost patterns outside and the co habitation of all the sigils and that delicious cake ... magick indeed.

Moma Fauna said...

Thank you.
I always wish to join you & the Grove, but you know, or rather, I know, I have other things I must do. Ah, to be cloned...
Or not. @__@

Moma Fauna said...


I am so pleased you got the comment mess worked out. It's tricky business.
One of the things that brings me the most joy is looking to the Moon & knowing that as She watches us watching Her watching us, anywhere else in the world where our loved ones pitter patter, She is there too, doing the same -- like a BIG dot in the cosmic dot-to-dot, the anchor dot, or something.

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