The Full Snow Moon was bright, then blood red, the last Total Lunar Eclipse until 2012. There are many names for February’s Moon: Sleet Moon, Goose Moon, Coyote Moon. I even found a reference from the Sioux, Raccoon Moon. I thought of our resident raccoon. I bundled wool over exposed skin, stood outside in no wind, -6 degrees of chilled air, watched the shadow of Earth fall between us and the Moon.
We could only stand to be outside for 5 or 10 minutes. Then we would quickly roll inside, warm up frost-fried fingers, fumble with camera buttons to see if we got a good shot. Blurred, no tripod. Back outside again. Even near a large city, it was silent, clear, you could see a spattering of stars through crimped branches of oak and elm.
The Eastern Cherokee call February the Bone Moon. Food grows thin, sometimes runs out. The Ancients gnawed on bones, made soup in steaming black pots over wooden tripods on fire. The white Bone moon disappeared, slowly eaten by Earth’s shadowy darkness. And in its place, indirect sunlight that still managed to bounce off the moon, turned into red, blues filtered, sucked out by the Earth’s atmosphere. The red moon is warm. We stood staring, not wanting to talk.
February is a lean month. I am restless, can’t stand to be in the house. I have moved to a coffee shop close by. I’m staring out at what is left of Winter’s dress – dirty brown snow. Cars fly past on their way to Rainbow Foods. There are only three of us left inside. I slow-drink a latte (skim), set Natalie’s book out on the table next to my headphones, cell phone, a black caribou jumping through a turquoise hoop. Is it a Snow Moon caribou? Or have we crossed a line into March.
I fattened up over Winter. I can feel a lumbering, I like the word lumbering, in my Soul. And my body aches to run, screaming through the wilderness. I guess that’s what I loved about freezing my butt off, staring up at the Snow Moon. The wildness of it all. I heard the dogs bark down the street. I wanted to scream. I don’t think I said anything to Liz, but they were barking through the whole 3 hours of the eclipse.
I wonder what the Ancients thought, standing around, coyotes circling, staring at the moon disappear behind invisible shadows. How did they make sense of it? A god, a goddess, another force to be reckoned with.
I have not seen the raccoon paws again. But water was dripping off the shingles when I left the house. Puddles splash across the sidewalk, rubber treads throw themselves into muddy thaw. I passed a stone office building located in the middle of a bog. There it is, all alone, in the middle of a swamp. It was empty for a long time, finally bought by a company with a wave logo and hydraulics in the name.
I told Liz I wish that was my studio, a building floating in the middle of a cattail bog, floating on a swamp. But why do people build in Nature’s drainage system, the places she uses to purify her water? I swear, if there were not zoning laws, state and national parks, every single square inch of space would be covered in concrete, tar, brick and mortar. There would be no Snow Moon to stare up at on a February winter night. Yeah, we tried to take over the Moon, too. But there was no air, no water, no food.
Man, so limited in his ability to adapt to physical hardship, fights the elements, refuses to honor the past. I’ve gone off on a tangent now. I guess there is something to be said for a good rant once in a while. I could tell by my writing practice this morning that I was edgy and unforgiving. Mostly of myself. I come here to stare out the window, guilt-free, to work on my projects without flinching or running over to add water to the cat dish.
I remember Natalie saying, “You’ve got to get out of the house. It’s too distracting.” I guess if a home was big enough, you could create enough space, your own wing, off from the rest of the family. But I am so used to sharing space that isn’t really there. It appears and reappears, Poof!, out of thin air.
Like the eclipsed, disappearing Moon. Only to surface hours later, no worse for wear, revealing a few more of her secrets, in coded shades of red. Nature’s secrets, they keep the dark mysteries alive. And in the morning, more Sun.
-posted on red Ravine, Monday, February 25th, 2008
-related to posts, winter haiku trilogy and PRACTICE – Wolf Moon – 10min
Loved this – a real undercurrent of wildness that made me remember that feeling of seeing a full moon and just wanting to howl!
I’ve just been reading Women who run with the Wolves, and your post made me think of the idea of the Wildish woman that runs through it.
“Bone moon” is a fantastic phrase – where did you come across it?
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“I wonder what the Ancients thought, standing around, coyotes circling, staring at the moon disappear behind invisible shadows. How did they make sense of it? A god, a goddess, another force to be reckoned with.”
Believe it or not. . .
At least some of the Ancients quite naturally associated the deep red color of the totally eclipsed moon with blood, and went on to make the fairly obvious connection to menstrual blood. For some ancient cultures the Moon Goddess was menstruatring during lunar eclipses, this concept later became transferred onto all full moons. According to my research into this ancient religious concept, menstrual taboos against working were applied to both men and women during the full moon in ancient Babylon. This monthly day of rest was called Sabbatu. Sounds a lot like Sabbath doesn’t it? Guess which ancient monotheistic religion was influenced by its contact with Babylon. . . So, when the two day period of rest that quite likely evolved out of this ancient religious concept is just around the corner, you might want to say, “Thank Goddess it’s Freya’s Day.” 😉
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Trinity of celestial beings –
eclipsed luna, red blooded, brown dabbled with what once was fiery lava
the Regulus, nova of the lion’s constellation
Saturn, the god’s mirth, ringed and betrothed
peering at the specks of light, astronomical wonders
a show seen half a world wide
Humankind’s infinite fascination with the unreachable, the mind-defying, the uncommon
clashes with his longing for numbers and logic
for the one true answer, the perfect solution, the peace-of-mind of absolute values.
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The barking dogs remind me of the total solar eclipse I observed sometime about thirty years ago. I watched it from a hill overlooking small family farms, and at least half an hour before we people could see any evidence of the cosmic event, the animals in the valley below went totally crackers. Roosters crowed their heads off, dogs barked incessantly, cattle lowed. Even the wild birds were chirping themselves silly, with the intensity you generally associate with the onset of dawn.
This din built to a gradual climax, and continued the intensity until the sun began emerging again. At some point it was almost as if someone flipped a switch, turning off the sound track.
Those animal responses were more fascinating to me than the astronomy part of the eclipse. Apparently animals are more sensitive to light changes than humans, and more in tune with the natural world. Perhaps ancient people relied more heavily on animal reactions as their own “earth change detectors.”
Robin, I appreciate your input on the lunar customs of the ancients, especially the connection between Sabbatu and Sabbath. How fascinating that the Jews celebrate(d) the coming of the new moon rather than the full one.
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I told Liz I wish that was my studio, a building floating in the middle of a cattail bog, floating on a swamp…. I guess if a home was big enough, you could create enough space, your own wing, off from the rest of the family. But I am so used to sharing space that isn’t really there. …
Beautiful and beautifully written. And this comment above is just cool.
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The Department of Natural Resources has just released the findings of a study. People 19 to 44 are not engaging with nature. It’s unfamiliar, and some are afraid of things like camping. No one is teaching them how to be outside. The report is called: “No Time for Nature.” It’s been on my mind.
Reading this post today reminds me of wanting to spend more time outside. And perhaps to take someone young along.
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I am really enjoying this Comment thread, though I haven’t had much time to respond today! Just quickly checking in. But thanks everyone.
lirone, I ran across the Bone Moon somewhere in my research on the Wolf Moon. It was interesting because Scaramastra used it in a haiku, too, around the same time. And until that week, she had not heard it either. It is a lovely way to describe a Moon.
Robin E., I totally believe it! And thanks for the added information. It reminds me that we all used to live so close to nature, our cycles followed hers and we honored and respected that. I would not want to go back to some of the hardships of that time! But I sure do miss the way people used to respect Nature more.
I have done a lot of research on pre-Christian mythology and practices, too, and find them fascinating. The Mystics were on to something. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine the place we’ve come to, where choice of religion can be such a divider between peoples.
ritergal, I was so amazed by all the animal activity, too. I kept hearing the squirrels and things up in the trees during the eclipse, too. I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed that!
Sinclair, I’m not surprised to hear about that study. It would be interesting to read their findings. The sad thing, too, is that the further away from Nature people get, the more they don’t care if we destroy it. They have no connection to it. It’s so important to keep the younger generations aware of the abundance of the natural world and the seasons.
One other thing about the Moon, the New Moon in astrology, too, is a time to begin new practices and energy cycles that come to fruition on the Full Moon. Then the cycle repeats itself. I like being aware of that. It’s part of why I decided (back in Comment 33 on the winter haiku trilogy post) to do these Moon practices once a month. I am most grounded when I pay attention to the Sun and Moon. When I stop paying attention, I know I’m not connected to what’s important to me.
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barbara, thank you for the beautiful poetry. The clash between the unreachable and the perfect and logical, really rings true. Without the mysteries, so much would be missing in this world.
sibyllae, thank you. When I wrote those lines, I was thinking about space, the need to have and make space to create. Liz and I both feel that need, living in such a small space. It’s wonderful for living, but there is not much room for either of us to spread out our projects and leave them spread out! We started looking harder for studio space last weekend. I’ll keep people posted as it materializes.
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QM: Do some more with this one—it is wild and deep.
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Ditto, QM. I am amazed at how in synch you are with nature, how much nature energizes you. You remind me of Jim that way, much more comfortable with the physical than the mental. At least he is. Perhaps you are one of those people who move easily between physical, mental, emotional (and the other realms).
This matter of a dedicated space, it is so important. I also agree that getting out of the house is important. I love to write in cafes. Both — cafes and dedicated space at home.
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Franny, perhaps I should pluck a few lines from this Writing Practice, and do a few more practices. Go to another level, see where it takes me. Thanks for reflecting that back.
ybonesy, your comment struck me because it reminded me of a reading I once had. For those who don’t believe in past lives (I do), I’m sure this will sound off, but in the reading, she told me I was once an Alchemist and it was my specialty to help other people move between the realms.
The reason she told me that, was because, at the time, I was having trouble grounding into the physical world. (I wasn’t particularly fond of being in my body.) Though connected to Nature (it grounds me), I can get lost in my head, as well as emotions (not a good place to make important decisions from).
Anyway, she told me it’s so comfortable for me to move between the worlds, that I sometimes get confused about where I am supposed to be!
You reminded me to revisit that concept again. And remember to ground. I think that’s what Nature does for me and I so appreciate that. But over this past Winter, I did not get out enough and just walk. I really missed that.
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Interesting, QM. It seems as though your focus on Nature as a way to ground your spiritual and other faculties (in terms of movement) has really helped. I can see how your interest in Nature is often mixed with your interest in the Spiritual. The Moon, birds, feathers, bones — there’s a holistic nature to your connection to those entities. I see one anyway.
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Yes, that feels true for me. It is kind of circular, moving between head, heart, mind, body. And without the ground (read: feet actually planted on the ground, smelling God’s green earth!), I can sometimes just spin between all of them, getting nowhere!
Maybe that’s why I love the smell of earth so much. (Well, that, and the Taurus Moon, Taurus Rising! That helps, too.)
You know, related to writing – like Natalie says, writing can be very physical. But it’s also something solitary that keeps us very much inside our heads. I think that’s why her having us slow walk, sit and meditate, and my walking the labyrinth last year grounded my writing so much.
Now I have to plan those kinds of things into my own schedule and it can be hard to remember that I have to do that. And follow through. My writing will be better for it. Something like watching the Eclipse the other night made me feel connected to something much bigger than me, while still rooted to Earth.
My therapist used to laugh with me about it. She would say, “You’re living on Earth, not in the Stars! Get inside that body!” She had a Jewish word for it, something about flying between the realms, but I can’t remember it. I’ll have to look for that Writing Practice again. I want to remember.
We worked hard on the grounding. I think part of issues with weight and obesity (and I say part, because some can be physical for people) can be related to past body trauma and not wanting to be in the body. Too painful. There are a lot of subjects connected to this one. You can take it so many places.
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Interesting thread…
I’m not a visual artist, but I think anyone painting or sketching from life will spend at least as much time looking at their subject as they do looking at their painting.
I think it’s the same with writing – we have to spend time living, and experiencing, and connecting with what matters most to us, in between creating our own representation of that.
You seem to have rediscovered something very important in your own inspiration, QM – I wonder where it will take you!
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The Moon inspires me too and I enjoyed this post a lot.
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lirone, I agree. Getting out and living informs the writing. Pingponging between when to be out in the world, when to retreat and write, when to sit and refill the well!
Welcome to red Ravine, Princess Haiku. 8)
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[…] the blade I was wielding. There between the brilliant blue branches of the oak and ash peered the Bone Moon. The Ancients sometimes called February’s moon, the Snow Moon. I reached into my pocket, […]
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