It's the dark moon, the edge before it's born again tomorrow. It's a good time to slough off, clean the house, unload.
I've been thinking about this blog. It may seem to some that I live on dew drop soup and cobweb salad and my days are strung together with magic thread and every morning my clothes are sewn on by sparrows (well, that actually is true). I want to dive into the shadows for a moment, into the space held by this silent moon.
As a practitioner, I am feel honored that people allow me to really see them, to see them whole and all. When I do a session, I am opening up a circle that welcomes all the grief and sorrow and addiction and trauma and shadow. It's in that shadow that I see beauty; and what I get to do is tease out the gifts from this wounded place and hand them back to that person. It doesn't make me psychic or more special AND it certainly doesn't mean I don't have my own challenges. In fact, it is essentially because I have touched the floor of the ocean of grief and walked with so much pain that I can sit in compassion and love with people in their darkest and most confused moments.
I don't get to say these things to you when we are having tea in a consultation because, well because for one that's not why people come to see me and also because that would be bad, bad boundaries. But it feels important to say this.
I took a workshop with Joanna Macy recently, who, if you haven't heard of, you might want to find a book by her or become a roadie. I really can't say enough about this human being. Just being in her presence is healing. She said that when she was young, she went to a dance and stood there feeling terribly lonely and awkward. At that moment, she had an insight that has carried her for all her life. Looking around at all the people, chatting and flirting and dancing, she realized that all people everywhere are lonely. In those moments when we feel the most isolated and we begin to compare our sorry selves to everyone around us and we end up with the genius conclusion that we are the pitiful one while the rest of humanity has some how made it out well adjusted and intact, we have an opportunity to actually connect with everyone else here on this spinning planet with this fact: we are all lonely. We all long for connection. And we're all carrying some pain in our hearts, along with all the glittering shiny stuff in there.
I always give an offering around the new moon- I like to plant and give something of myself. I have wondered about my own sadness- is this really a good present? Wouldn't the universe prefer a pretty little necklace of joy or a shiny box of bliss? Who wants my trash?
Turns out, the world loves our scraps and bits*- our orange rinds and eggshells and bones and the birds can't get enough of the bits of hair I pull out of my brush. The earth loves the dead trees and the leaves, just fallen. The world loves death as much as it loves life, it needs death and decay. And we all need to see each other's mess and shadows and pain, as it is what makes our beauty whole.
And so on this dark moon, I offer my own heart, full of sorrow and despair, full of longing and loneliness, and full of buoyant gladness and light, knowing that these rich gifts poured into the wet earth are like seeds which under the soil, get loved into new life.
*Even though I know you know what I mean, I feel like I need to say that obviously the world does not love all kinds of trash. The world does not love and does not want any more plastic or petroleum products. But I do believe the world needs our grief about what is going on here.