With waxing gibbious full moon nearing, I realized the influence it actually has on all of us. In spades. Today drove me crazy. Being the type that yearns to figure things out and somewhat of an introspective spiritual sort (perhaps some might say a lunatic at times) I found myself in a tailspin by the end of this day feeling dizzy as a Dirvish. All of the day’s challenges, although somewhat benign compared to many others out there, I was brought to my knees in frustration with a sprinkle of sorrow. Everything I attempted backfired with hiccup after hiccup. Nothing (and I mean no thing at all) went smoothly. It became overwhelming and at times darkly humorous. Had to laugh when I couldn’t even eat a piece of toast because the knife slipped from my hand, fell to the floor splattering an apricot jam butter blend everywhere then slid under the heel of my slipper shoving goop onto the underside of my foot. Wtf. Srsly. What. The. F&$k. Finally, I had a private meltdown of sorts. This finale to the whole succession of failures over 14 hours during the course of the day from 5am until 7pm, this last obstacle to just having a decent day buried me. I sat down with a thud on the sticky floor and just started bawling. So stupid, I thought. Everyone has a tough day sometimes. Pull up your big girl panties and snap out of it. It’s just a piece of toasted sourdough bread. Sigh. Get the f%$k up. So, brushing off the sticky crumbs from the sole of my foot, I realized it was ultimately worthy of some serious soul searching, so to speak. It was either that or blow a gasket and we all know that’s neither fun nor pretty.
I had to dig deep in my mental toolbox this time to tend to some seriously smoldering-to-the-surface old wounds. The kind you ruminate on, that wake you up on the middle of the night. The oh no, missy, you’re not going back to sleep. Sorrrrry. So what, it’s 3am, you might as well brew some coffee and brew your boggled brain a bit more, kind. The pop-into-your-head-any-
moment wounds; the memory of them anyway. The kind that cut. Deeply. The get-out-of-my-head thoughts that if you’re not careful will consume you. So…..let’s flip the switch, I said. Find a healthy cathartic distraction. In doing so, I indeed found a few that helped: solitary meditation, prayer, music, cutting flowers for Easter, crying and the turning to the oracles. Oh, and deep box breathing. Lots of deeeeeeeeep breathing while looking at the moon rising in the darkening canyon.
I love the moon. It proves even in darkness we can have faith that light will prevail. That life has its cycles. Call me a lunatic. A few of you may already. Whatever. At times we all are. We are all human. That’s okay. Some people may make fun of or avoid others they believe to be lunatics. That’s okay, too. Personally, I believe many who have been considered lunatics throughout the ages ended up having a deeper understanding of and/or creative perspective on life. Actually referring to the etymology of the word, lunatic is Middle English: from Old French lunatique, from late Latin lunaticus, from Latin luna ‘moon’ (from the belief that changes of the moon caused intermittent insanity). So, maybe being a lunatic occasionally isn’t all that bad. Some may mind if others go a little bonkers from time to time. However, to keep my sanity I had to, just HAD to, think: some good may come out of all of it. My addage is: those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind (nod to Dr. Seuss). I’m simply sharing and stating the facts about how I got through this particularly rough day with tools at hand. Maybe it will help someone else someday. So, go ahead and call me a lunatic. Anyway, I digress. The moon and getting through the madness.
This evening’s twilight on verge of impending full moon proved obvious impetus for a drawing from my moon oracle deck. Interesting draw. [see pic]. The two drawn -‘reveal what needs to be seen’ and ‘find a balance’- loosely said: speak your mind but watch your tongue and tone. Find the right space and time. Fitting. Also drew from my Angel deck-Trust. There’s a suprise. Ha! Anyway, bottom line what was revealed to me is: be more patient with and trust in yourself, your process, your life and speak your mind with truth, decorum and faith.
As for the dice, I use them as numerology to bump up feedback via signals and signs trusting the luck of the draw, so to speak. I threw twice. First, a seven then a three.
Seven is a number of completion; initial flip of the bones indicated closure to something was on the horizon. Then, tossing a three is representative of the birth-life-death cycle, the mind-body-soul connection, the three acts of a typical story-beginning/middle/end. Wherever the number three shows up in your life, it’s also generally an omen of creativity, communication, optimism, and curiosity. The combo essentially meant: stay the course despite obstacles; there will be a transformative period but in the end the experience will likely prove impetus for knowledge and growth. The reading gave me solace and calmed me down. With that,
I crawled into bed, pulled the quilt up close and my kitties closer and tried to let go of the shitshow that was this day. Putting it behind me and looking forward to tomorrow and surrending to the process of life’s cycle, I was able to finally settle down and exhale. Afterall, like the moon, even in the darkness I can have faith I will rise again and see the light. Blessed be.
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