|Luna, at Moonrise over Breakfast Canyon, December 16, 2013.|
Mother's Moon, aka Long Nights Moon.
How difficult it is to get back into the habit of writing regularly! Quite regrettable, really. But at least the time has been put to use along other creative avenues…
Below is what remains of my memory of December's Full Moon. It's mostly about Love & offerings & a cat who knows a little something about both. I record it here, for the files.
❉ ❉ ❉
Single parenting in the high desert, the children & I prepared for the Esbat, sans the Hubby. Alaska keeps him on a short leash nowadays. I wanted to make something the children could contribute to without irreparable mayhem -- we opted for old fashioned oatmeal cookies with chunks of milk chocolate. No chips. Chopped up bars, just as it should be…
I was really wanting said cookies anyway & that's the thing about giving in relationships: the best gifts are generally those you would really like for yourself . (Unless you & the recipient are hopelessly diametrically opposed & then I suppose that principle is hopelessly inadequate.) But since I Love(!) that Moon, I leave Her things I would serve my very best friend, or my Mom, or the sausage cat… were she a human (although, as a cat, it is actually best if she doesn't eat such things, but I am quite certain she would love them if given the opportunity).
There is much debate regarding the subject of offerings, but were it appropriate, I would offer the Moon my favorite blankets & a down pillow. I would beckon Her inside & offer Her a cup of coffee, tea or wassail if she has a craving for sweets… I might not offer wine, only because I am dubious of the quality & condition of the bottles which remain lurking in our cellar. Would She like to curl up by the woodstove? May I offer my precious candy cane cookie stash? Better still, how about some homemade buttermilk bread with spiced, wild rose hip butter?
In short, I would offer Her every last ounce of Love that breathes within these walls… were it appropriate.
Instead, we baked dozens & dozens of cookies. Way too many, really. We saved the cookies we wanted the most for Her, setting them carefully aside. Then we awaited Her arrival.
The children didn't have it in them to join me outside that night. So I mixed up a Negro Ruso & stepped outside with the cookies safely nestled in little wooden offering bowl Hubby made. I walked over to the big log under the failed crow-feeder which, by some strange force of habit --or something -- has become the offering table.
The Moon had already risen & loomed quite high in the sky. The light reflected off the snow made it look like some preternatural version of daytime. Despite my desire to stay in this dreamy world, I did not linger because I felt I should attend to maternal duties. As I pulled the door open, I found myself halted by an unexpected sight. There stood the semi-sausage cat formerly known as "the skeleton cat." She wanted to join me.
This might not seem unusual, a cat wanting out, except for the fact that this cat has been so horribly ill that she has had little interest in doing much of anything at all, let alone venturing outdoors, in the dark, cold of the winter night. She is, after all, a career indoor cat undergoing a medical alternative to chemotherapy.
So I let her out.
Her peachy fur glowed curiously in the Moonlight. She snorfled all around the house, huffing & puffing scents I could only imagine (but would rather not). The carport in particular held many mysteries for her. She was so incredibly alert & alive. Electrified by the light of the Moon & heady fragrances of musk & urine & godz-know-what-else… she was luminescent, ethereal & yet still very much an instinct-driven creature of the Earth.
As I trailed her, I was filled with relief, delight & so, so much Love. The entire unexpected circumstance reminded me of a lifetime ago; waking in the night from time to time when I was a child. In my memory at least, it always seems this happened when there was ample Moonlight. I would go skulking about the house or out into the yard, pretending -- nay, wishing -- I was a cat. I would sniff about the walls or shrubbery, making that classic cat "stink face" & peer about with a territorial gaze. I was always dying for a real catfight. How exciting that would be! (Or so I imagined. Nowadays, not so much.) As a wee lass, I had cat-envy, cat-awe & here I was, reliving those fantasies, only this time, I suppose it was more "real." What an honor to escort my beloved companion on a Moonlit, olfactory-driven prowl. Just me, my little grrrl & the Moon...
Besides, whatever that cat wants, she will get. Unless it will make her barf.
That's the thing about relationships: when you Love, you want to give, to share, to nourish, to offer of yourself. I will offer what little I have, because I Love.
When she was done with her inspection, we walked back into the house together & I recognized that, as always, this night was exactly as it should be.
❉ ❉ ❉
That cameo-coloured fluff sausage knows more than a little about offerings too. A couple weeks later, she brought me her first mouse since her illness. It was a lovely White Footed (Peromyscus), of course. Chirping gaily, she pranced into the bedroom & then scrambled around the bed to my side. What a beautiful prize! I would have accepted it with great ceremony except for one small detail -- the wee creature was very much alive. Ah, offerings. Symbols so fleeting. So we just keep on offering.
|Lady Moon, Luna, December 20th.|
She keeps giving too.