Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Wednesday gratefuls: Scrivener. Superior Wolf. AI. Writing. My teacher. Shadow and her Lambchop toy. Squeakectomies. Approaching 79. Equanimity. A still space. MVP, my CBE family.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Equanimity

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

Tarot: Four of Stones, protection

“The card symbolizes the transition from vulnerability to security. It emphasizes that while we must weather many trials, establishing a “personal place of emotional safety” is vital for the spirit to thrive.”

 

One brief shining: Mule Deer Fawn show up in my yard a lot in the Spring, sometimes a bit wobbly, their legs and their trunk not always synchronized, their mothers close by, eating and watching, for in the wild the young and the wobbly may meet a Mountain Lion.

 

While taking the garbage to the road this morning, the waxing crescent of the Moon of Deep Friendship shone through patchy Cloud cover. As it swells, grows full, then wanes, the Moon mirrors the Great Wheel of the Year in miniature.

My life wanes: a thrum of MRIs, a calendar colonized by doctors, the ritual of the pills.

We remain fawns for longer than we imagine.

My dad saw me as a Buster Brown revolutionary, then bought me an orange V.W. Later, he told me to cut my hair or leave. I left and never lived at home again.

I was lucky. I met Kate. On our Andover property I found fullness. Gardens. Bees. Dogs. The Orchard. Jon and Joe.

Our years. Heather outside Inverness. Hagia Sophia. Our honeymoon. North from Rome, following spring. First-class Eurail.

Waning began. We celebrated. A long cruise around Latin America. A move to Colorado to be near the grandkids and live in the Mountains. Hannukah with Ruth and Gabe.

Kate’s waning ended five years ago this April. I can see the New Moon coming for me, too. Not imminent, but no longer far away.

I have lived almost five years now in our house, first with Rigel and Kepler, now Shadow. My body has diminished capacity, yes. Opening those heavy jars of sauerkraut. Standing.

My waning. Not finished.