Moon Date: January 4, 2015
Dinner: Clementine, Fennel, & Quinoa Salad
Love Feast: Cardamom Bun drizzled with honey, Divine Dark Chocolate with Fruit and Nuts, Ginger Tea
In celebration of the first Full Moon of the year 2015 I went for a walk in the woods. In the daylight the deep snow illumined the dark browns of the naked branches and the strong, heavy wind forced the trees into conversation.
This year it is my hope to acknowledge each full moon, celebrating in whatever means seem fit for the given month. A dear friend of mine introduced me to the idea and her presence will be with me in these celebrations whenever schedules allow. The cycles of the moon offer a chance to notice the pattern of things, the waxing and waning of not only the moon herself, but of my own heart, mind and spirit, God’s creation around me, and so importantly, God’s voice. The moon has a lot to tell us. She informs us of the weather and shares knowledge with the farmers who so intently pay attention to the earth. She tells us about womanhood, shares insight about her brother, sun, and reminds us of how God illuminates so many wonderful things in the dark that we most often run from. God created her with purpose, and with her help, we might discover a little more of who God is.
This first full moon I spent alone. In silence.
As the moon rose, January’s moon, it was dark, windy, cloudy. To start the new year, my intent on this first celebration was to be quiet, to welcome silence, to create space for God’s voice to be heard.
I stepped into my own wilderness after walking in the woods, after finally turning off the music, closing my laptop, and after finally shutting the door to my bedroom. It took me all day to bring myself to do this. The only sound I could hear was the muffled roar of the wind in the trees outside and the thin, wooden candle wick burning next to me. I sat down on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed, and in an instant my tears flowed like heavy rain down an eaves trough. Welcome, moon. Welcome, God.
This is what we try so hard to avoid. We keep ourselves, our bodies and minds, busy. We fill the quiet spaces with podcasts airing other people’s stories. We turn the music up a little louder, turn on the television as soon as we get home just to fill the quiet spaces. We do anything to keep from being along with our thoughts. And there is good reason for that. It’s lonely. It’s painful. It’s ugly. In the silence, we are forced to confront our feelings, the emotions that have worked to hard to cover up with ambient noise. I know this all too well. If I keep moving, just fast enough, I have no time to notice what is stirring inside. If I pencil just enough events in my calendar, attend just enough social affairs, my attention can be directed to others, asking THEM the question “How are you?” and skirt over the answer when the inquiry is returned to me. I respond with, “I’m good”, change the subject, inflect cheer in my voice. I know better.
Unfortunately, what I think I (we) need most is to welcome the silence. The more we run from the quiet, the more clanging cymbals and gongs we fill our lives with, the less we invite healing. Silence is scary. It asks us to be vulnerable, to be alone with ourselves, our own worst enemy. But, should we muster up the courage to enter silence, enter our own wilderness, we find that no matter what kind of ugly cry it might induce, we are not alone. God waits for us in those moments. God is already in the silence, ready to receive us as we are, and ready to speak in a voice that may be so quiet it demands the dreaded silence. God offers healing in silence. I dare you to enter it.