It was night of February 20, 2008. I was out watching the total eclipse of the full moon. The sky was enormous. There were no clouds. When the moon came up, it was a breathtaking milky-gold ball that lit up the horizon. As it rose and became white, the eclipse shadow began taking over. I kept watching it as the shadow grew and even tried to take some pictures of it. The pictures did it no justice. It is one of those things I will just have to remember.
I have been enchanted and awed by the moon as long as I can remember. Watching her cycles wax and wane has taught me more about life than just about anything else. She has been the most consistent and dependable thing in my life. I know she is out there when it is cloudy, her path misses my view, or when she is covered by the shadow of an eclipse.
When my son was small and one of us would go away, I used to tell him that we were never far away from each other because we could both see the moon. That made it much easier to be apart. It would have been unbearable if the moon had not been there for both of us. Even though my son is now an adult and on another continent, I still use my reference point to be certain of our connection.
Once an amazing thing happened. While watching the moon one night I had what I would call a sacred experience. I was on a mountain in Colorado camping out under the stars when a full moon rose in the sky. The light was so bright I could see as if it was daytime. I was laying in my sleeping bag watching the sky in wonder when, suddenly, I had the experience of not being separate. It was as if I was a part of the mountain, the sky, the moon—I was everything. From that moment, my spiritual life has filled and changed my perception of life.
I was hungry for lunar knowledge. I found the symbolic and spiritual connections fascinating. I read folk stories, fairy tales, poetry, novels, magazines, astrology, psychology and any spiritual books I could get my hands on.
I found out that many ancient cultures worshiped the moon more than the sun. Some called all deities the “moon”. To the Greeks, menos meant both “moon” and “power.” To the Romans, the morality of the Moon-goddess was superior to that of the Sun god. In many cultures, the Moon-goddess and the Creatress were one and the same. The Moon-goddess was thought to create time, with all its cycles of creation, growth, decline, and destruction, which is why ancient calendars were based on phases of the moon.
Because the Moon-goddess was threefold, the Destroyer as well as the Creator, she was the devourer of the dead as well as the giver of life. The Greeks located the home of the blessed dead in the moon. Most important for its association with birth, the moon was supposed to be the receptacle of menstrual blood by which each mother formed the life of her child.
Few religious symbols occurred in so many diverse contexts as symbols of the moon. Despite all the church’s condemnations, rural folk continued to trust the Moon-mother in all their most important activities. To them, the moon governed women’s sexuality, birth, death, and magic. (Walker)
As I gathered information, my own beliefs began to take shape and I was swept away with inspiration. With the new insights, I began to feel my power in a new and exciting way. The moon began to signify the feminine to me. She became a link to my mother, and her mother and her mother. I remembered when I became a mother and felt her presence right beside me, holding me and rocking me back and forth, back and forth.
I was beginning to understand the moon's energies about life and death. When my mother died, I initially felt as if I had lost all connection to everything. It was night when I got the word, and all I could do was go outside with my dog and sit on the ground under a huge tree and weep. Just as I was being submerged in agonizing despair, I looked up and the moon was peeking over a cloud at me. I remembered in that instant my connection to everything, including to my mother, now on the other side. Knowing I was part of everything, even death would ever take her away. My mother died thirty-one years ago this month. It seems like yesterday and forever. Tomorrow is my son’s birthday. It seems like he has been with me always.
As the eclipse completely obscured the moon, I took deep breaths and basked in the gratitude of her presence, her secrets, her power and the mysteries that she has offered me. She has shown me about the cycles of birth, life and death in many it's many forms and ways. She has helped me connect with spirituality. Because of her and what she has come to represent to me, she has enriched my life with a wondrous journey. I celebrate the blessings of the moon as she travels through the sky, holding her secrets for me to discover.
I have been enchanted and awed by the moon as long as I can remember. Watching her cycles wax and wane has taught me more about life than just about anything else. She has been the most consistent and dependable thing in my life. I know she is out there when it is cloudy, her path misses my view, or when she is covered by the shadow of an eclipse.
When my son was small and one of us would go away, I used to tell him that we were never far away from each other because we could both see the moon. That made it much easier to be apart. It would have been unbearable if the moon had not been there for both of us. Even though my son is now an adult and on another continent, I still use my reference point to be certain of our connection.
Once an amazing thing happened. While watching the moon one night I had what I would call a sacred experience. I was on a mountain in Colorado camping out under the stars when a full moon rose in the sky. The light was so bright I could see as if it was daytime. I was laying in my sleeping bag watching the sky in wonder when, suddenly, I had the experience of not being separate. It was as if I was a part of the mountain, the sky, the moon—I was everything. From that moment, my spiritual life has filled and changed my perception of life.
I was hungry for lunar knowledge. I found the symbolic and spiritual connections fascinating. I read folk stories, fairy tales, poetry, novels, magazines, astrology, psychology and any spiritual books I could get my hands on.
I found out that many ancient cultures worshiped the moon more than the sun. Some called all deities the “moon”. To the Greeks, menos meant both “moon” and “power.” To the Romans, the morality of the Moon-goddess was superior to that of the Sun god. In many cultures, the Moon-goddess and the Creatress were one and the same. The Moon-goddess was thought to create time, with all its cycles of creation, growth, decline, and destruction, which is why ancient calendars were based on phases of the moon.
Because the Moon-goddess was threefold, the Destroyer as well as the Creator, she was the devourer of the dead as well as the giver of life. The Greeks located the home of the blessed dead in the moon. Most important for its association with birth, the moon was supposed to be the receptacle of menstrual blood by which each mother formed the life of her child.
Few religious symbols occurred in so many diverse contexts as symbols of the moon. Despite all the church’s condemnations, rural folk continued to trust the Moon-mother in all their most important activities. To them, the moon governed women’s sexuality, birth, death, and magic. (Walker)
As I gathered information, my own beliefs began to take shape and I was swept away with inspiration. With the new insights, I began to feel my power in a new and exciting way. The moon began to signify the feminine to me. She became a link to my mother, and her mother and her mother. I remembered when I became a mother and felt her presence right beside me, holding me and rocking me back and forth, back and forth.
I was beginning to understand the moon's energies about life and death. When my mother died, I initially felt as if I had lost all connection to everything. It was night when I got the word, and all I could do was go outside with my dog and sit on the ground under a huge tree and weep. Just as I was being submerged in agonizing despair, I looked up and the moon was peeking over a cloud at me. I remembered in that instant my connection to everything, including to my mother, now on the other side. Knowing I was part of everything, even death would ever take her away. My mother died thirty-one years ago this month. It seems like yesterday and forever. Tomorrow is my son’s birthday. It seems like he has been with me always.
As the eclipse completely obscured the moon, I took deep breaths and basked in the gratitude of her presence, her secrets, her power and the mysteries that she has offered me. She has shown me about the cycles of birth, life and death in many it's many forms and ways. She has helped me connect with spirituality. Because of her and what she has come to represent to me, she has enriched my life with a wondrous journey. I celebrate the blessings of the moon as she travels through the sky, holding her secrets for me to discover.
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