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.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

August Moon, 2015: Que Será, Será, Part 2: The Mushroom Moon Shrine

Mushroom Moon Shrine, 2015. Que Será, Será
Mushroom Moon Shrine, 2015.
Que Será, Será

Que Será, Será

Whatever will be, will be.

Things do not always go as we wish. 
Things cannot always be explained. 
Things are often beyond our control.

The Esbat found our family very ill with the annual/inaugural first-of-the-schoolyear plague. This must be how we celebrate, or something. Somehow I missed that memo. 

Because I am the mother, I always go down last. It is the unspoken rule that we mothers will remain well until the rest of the brood is on the mend, then we will succumb. This makes me very leery of a zombie apocalypse as I do not relish being one of the last left standing. It also left me the one in the clutches of an achy, phlegmy disaster as the Esbat arrived. 

Flying in the face of ritual illness & bioregional changes, we managed to drag our sorry team into the forest to perform our annual procession through an equally sorry neighborhood of fungi. 

On this trip, my husband wandered astray to leave an offering of steel cut oats at the site of the Gyrfalcon's (Falco rusticolus) decay site. It is curious, the things that stay with us, move & motivate us as reflective critters. While I cannot bear to revisit that spot, he makes a point to return there with some regularity.

State of the shrine site upon our arrival.
State of the shrine site upon our arrival. 
At the end of our procession, we arrived at the site of the Mushroom Moon Shrine & began our ceremonious assembly of this idiosyncratic offering of gratitude. Our basket contents looked like we had made a lackluster attempt to find assemblage supplies. A scant few withered fungi inadequately littered the bottoms of our compact wooden baskets. Yet, this was not for lack of effort, it was for lack of fungi

In my cold-suppressant haze, I left my purse behind at the house. This found me without my drinking water, pencil, poetic resources, or my consecrated mushroom knife adding to the general feeling of lacking that the circumstances already provided. At least I had found the presence of mind to bring supplementary offerings from home -- dried Amanita muscaria caps, fuchsia blossoms, rose petals & the Papaver pods from 2013's devotional garden

I stood for a moment resisting despondency. Then, in my mind came the voices of Takashi & Matsuko Yamada from Isao Takahata's "My Neighbors the Yamadas" singing Que Será, Será. In the film, the song follows a protracted wedding speech by Takashi which, to the momentary horror of the entire wedding reception, highlights the futility of human existence. Somehow he manages to turn it around at the end into a statement on the power of human relationships & from there he & his wife Matsuko launch into a not entirely talented rendition of the song. 

I decided to wander further while the rest of the family worked with what was in the baskets & in my sense of absurdity, I considered cuing up the Yamadas' performance. But, as is the way of the internet, my search bought me something very different. Doris Day. As if handed to me with a smirk by some ironic, virtual hipster, there it was. And I had to laugh at this terribly out of context music as I followed the path further, dodging into the brush from time to time in the hopes of... something. 

Less than halfway into the song, I heard what I thought at first was Ravens recoiling at Doris Day & her child-populated chorus's saccharine vibes. But turning down the sound, I realized that what I was hearing was something I had never heard before...

Who are these birds? Cranes? Herons? There's a message here (at least one): don't forget to look beyond where you spend most of your time. For me, this means get my face out of the duff & look up from time to time. It also means don't bring Doris Day into the forest, she doesn't belong there. Nor does the internet in general.

I reckon it also means that there are other treasures to be cherished, not just the ones you think you want.

But first you need to discover & know them.

I went back the family that I treasure -- all of whom were clucking over the large, long-necked flock of birds which had circled the area & then continued on their journey. The shrine looked pretty nice, despite the scant resources & general withered nature of everything. Perhaps it is really the heart, intention & Love put into a creation that engenders true beauty.

Shrine with Papaver pods from 2013's devotional garden  bound with a strand from my Summer Solstice belt.
Shrine with Papaver pods from 2013's devotional garden
bound with a strand from my Summer Solstice belt. 

Message of gratitude carved in a Birch polypore (Piptoporus betulinus)
Message of gratitude
carved in a Birch Polypore (Piptoporus betulinus)

Message of gratitude carved in a young Tinder Polypore (Fomes Fomentarius).
Message of gratitude carved in a
young Tinder Polypore (Fomes Fomentarius). 

Message of surrender on birch bark -- in purple sharpie. Because that's all we had.
Message of surrender on birch bark --
in purple sharpie. Because that's all we had.

Eyelash cups (Scutellinia scutellata)

Desiccated Rosy russula (Russula rosea)
Desiccated Rosy russula (Russula rosea)



Que Será, Será...

And yes, despite it all, we are most grateful.


brian taylor said...

Thank you for having the presence of mind to record those wonderful voices, of cranes I presume? They're making a comeback in England, but not hereabouts. My first thought was Raven's laughing, too!

Moma Fauna said...

Ah Brian,

I had hoped you might possibly recognize those voices for me. ;)

The Audubon lists tell me we have cranes & herons here, but I failed my bird-nerd qualification exams.
Through the trees I saw part of one circling at the very beginning of the ruckus. Before I saw its neck, I thought it might be a predatory bird (which would have explained Ravens making a stink). As soon as I saw the long neck I thought Canadian Geese, of course, except the geese never circle like that & the silhouette was too long. Of course, the sounds too are not geese. My family said they were circling like mad & that it was an incredible sight. Glad I could share them with someone who could relish those gorgeous, haunting cries.

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