Poetry for the Esbat: Cool It Moon. July 2016.

“‘Heat, ma’am!’ I said; ‘it was so dreadful here, that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.”  Sydney Smith

It's hot.

It is hot...

Summer Sun through the smoke-filled air -- wildfires abound.

...too, too hot.

The heat! 

This is something I expected from the high desert, but to return to Alaska to find the same! Context is everything. I adore the heat, but it doesn't belong in this place. Not like this. 

Besides, Alaskans can't handle the heat.

Neighbors who can't handle the heat behave badly.

And maybe the heat is getting to everyone having a Summer on this planet. I don't know, but it seems to me that someone shoved a stick through the hive & the wasps are very angry... turning on one another.

Perhaps we turn on one another in order to ignore the much larger, much hotter problems that loom over our so-called 'civilization.' 

☽◦☾

These are times when I look to the Moon. She is the purest form of Quiet Calm -- a cool, reflective lens. 

Shhhh... 

Lady Luna, cool, quiet.

Shhhh...

Be still.

Be still, chaotic little children of Earth.

Cool it.

Please.

If we look to Lady Moon as our guide, She can remind us to be quiet & look within. She watches, unwavering as we scramble about, soiling our nest & blaming one another. She will witness our end & calmly continue to witness what lies beyond.

Last night I was awake late enough to see Her sliding along the neighboring rooftops opposite the never-quite-setting-Sun. To describe the feeling I experienced as 'reassuring' would be to understate the effect Her presence has upon my psyche. Centering, calming, clarifying, a sense of succor -- none of these suffice. Hence, the inspiration for this month's Esbat poetry. 

THE MOTHER MOON, by Louisa May Alcott

The moon upon the wide sea

Placidly looks down,

Smiling with her mild face,

Though the ocean frown.

Clouds may dim her brightness,

But soon they pass away,

And she shines out, unaltered,

O'er the little waves at play.

So 'mid the storm or sunshine,

Wherever she may go,

Led on by her hidden power

The wild see must plow.

As the tranquil evening moon

Looks on that restless sea,

So a mother's gentle face,

Little child, is watching thee.

Then banish every tempest,

Chase all your clouds away,

That smoothly and brightly

Your quiet heart may play.

Let cheerful looks and actions

Like shining ripples flow,

Following the mother's voice,

Singing as they go.

Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.

Poetry for the Esbat: Flow Moon, 2016

Dancer Delilah (Flynn) crafting her Art, underwater.

There is a powerful synthesis happening. Strands of my life way, my cosmology, my relationships, my body, which did not seem to connect now find themselves intimately woven in the most sensible ways.

Everything keeps making sense & that is just a bit freakish.

○○○

In the past, when asked about whether I would be willing to "teach," I replied, "I only teach my accident." It was a gentle way to decline. 

But strange things & strange persons happen. And sometimes, they change the rules. Or, perhaps they unveil rules you never knew existed. And in this change or unveiling, I began to teach. Of course, it has not been in the manner to which I originally consented or anticipated, but isn't that just the way of things?

Flow.

One of my True Loves is Sigil Magick. Yet being a critter of much privilege & little for which to want, my practice of the Arte is often lacking impetus. Perhaps this is why I needed to teach the art to others.

Here on this Esbat I find myself working out the last details of a traditional Golden Dawn style talisman for presentation -- but also for myself -- the pieces of which seem to be attempting to tie my worlds together. The focus of this talisman, in brief, is Flow. Hence the card for this Esbat, "Going with the Flow," the Ace of Water from the Osho Zen Tarot -- a deck I discovered while working on this particular project. 

Ace of Water, Osho Zen Tarot.

"The figure in this card is completely relaxed and at ease in the water, letting it take him where it will. He has mastered the art of being passive and receptive without being dull or sleepy. He is just available to the currents of life, with never a thought of saying "I don't like that," or "I prefer to go the other way."

Every moment in life we have a choice whether to enter life's waters and float, or to try to swim upstream. When this card appears in a reading it is an indication that you are able to float now, trusting that life will support you in your relaxation and take you exactly where it wants you to go. Allow this feeling of trust and relaxation to grow more and more; everything is happening exactly as it should." -- OZT

And isn't that just so very apropos for this Lunar occasion?

Concurrently, my studies in dance have been directed at this subject of Flow & somehow (ha!) this brought me to discover the underwater dance images of American belly dancer Delilah:

Her flowing (quite literally) being so illustrative of a condition I seek to realize for myself.

Not only in Dance, but in Life. (And are they not the same thing?)

○○○

This brings me to the poetry for this Esbat. In keeping with all the flowing & synthesizing & surrendering, I present a poem I have been sitting on (in my Poetry Foundation App) for several years now. The reasons for this I do not know, perhaps it was just not time. If I am honest with myself, I actually think I never quite understood it completely -- until now. 

[As if the moon could haul through you], by Neil Fischer

As if the moon could haul through you

Its tremor of light and stone,

Be cleared of sound. Plough

The mind's noise until it's a shine

In the purl of south-bending river that bears

Itself toward a blacker part of the forest.

If you hum, hum through the motes of air,

Perhaps your nerves will find at last

A tone to which they will succumb.

Be still. Be not so heavy-hearted

For a moment. All is not a tomb,

Blind sarcophagus staring dumb, thwarted

Pleasures nailed inside. These fireflies

Sweep their tracings on the evening.

Weep if you must, but board what falls

Away, abdomens flaring—

The brief, nomadic intervals.

Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.

Poetry for the Esbat: Bliss Moon, 2016

Lunar Devotional.
A Resh K'eljesh member.
Masterfully captured by my friend/charge/muse Z.

Moon!

Lady, slow down!

It is January... so many plans, so much to do on my Huge-Ass-List.
But it is a sprawling splatter of creativity & that pleases me. 
It is the Bliss of the Create-Thing. 
It is a Winter Thing.

If it is possible to suffer from excessive inspiration, this may be my affliction.


As I return to my journal Word-Place here in the ether, I see that I have missed many messages from my people. For this I am very sorry. I seem not to have received any notifications. Can we just blame it on Mercury Retrograde? 


In this current create-phase, I find myself a little without words. So maybe just pictures this time:

Luna, my ever-muse.

Sophia, #89. A recent muse.

Charging a project.

A finished project. Sort of.

Project detail.

An old friend who assists with many projects.

Creatrix.
Curiously marked by the Moon.

Project in progress. Many layers, years to come.

Create-space.

Learning, feeding, growing from tenuous dynamics.

Project in progress.

Needful things for tricky business.

Project-vision born from necessity.

And of course, the POETRY.

This Esbat, I take a piece published in Poetry Magazine in December, 1992. Written by poet May Sarton, I think it says it all: 

"Bliss" by May Sarton as published in the
December 1992 edition of Poetry Magazine.

Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.

Thoughts While Waiting (Impatiently). A Bout of Gratitude & Observation (turned prayer).

This week my husband suggested that we "might have to give up on the idea of mushrooms this season..." to which I squirmed & balked & grumbled & subsequently chose to ignore.

But there is a dearth of fungi here this season. It is true. 

In a way, maybe this is a good thing. Sort of. I guess. 
It is in the sense that we have had to turn our attention to other things. Things overlooked, but things that also fill our hearts & imaginations. They are not fungi, but still, as I reflect, I am grateful.

When we turn our eyes from the duff, what more is there to discover?

The World. (In no particular Order.)

Just allow me open spaces to roam, please.

And Mysteries to solve...
A stone left at Hubby's workplace. Turns out this is
Norwegian translated to runic, it says, roughly,
"There is no cake served in hell."

And flowers to Learn, Know & Nurture...
Wild ones, like the Twinflowers (Linnaea borealis)

And Buttercup (Ranuculus, spp.)

Or Yarrow (Achillea millefolium L. var. borealis),
white & pink varieties.

And Strawberry Blite (Blitum capitatum) -- coated with
 insect reproductive activity of some sort, I suspect.

A Foxglove (Digitalis spp.) at the front doorstep

A Fuchsia, "Blackie" (Fuchsia, spp., one of many) in back.

And Poppies (Papaver, spp.)
everywhere in between.

Show me other folks' creations to
discover, admire, emulate... 

And allow me to indulge in their
creative Secrets, Free Play & Art...

Always remembering that everything, everything
from eating to breathing to sleeping is an Art...
(especially if there is a basil sorbet involved...)

(...or a local rhubarb-infused vodka, paired with
friendship & sacred choreography planning)

And may I always be an open witness...
Witches' Altar. Lammas 2015.

Labyrinth, Anchorage, July 2015.

Laybrinth, Kasilof, August 2015.

Especially to Play.

And more Play.

Let me look to the Earth & the Sea & the Sky...

And everything in between.

And moreover...

Please let me recognize & embrace
the aesthetic of every human moment...

Let me respect my own mortality,
(Also let me know my allies: wounds packed 
with Yarrow & bound with Plantain)

And that of others...
Shrew (Sorex, spp.)

Squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus) remains.

And please, let me laugh, 
(Thank you Llewellyn.)

experience Joy, 

and Love.