Google or bing have brought 12 hits to my blog in the past four days via the search words lunar, beltane, or new moon.
It got me to thinking. When I was younger growing up at the beach in the summer there was a certain kind of local beach rat. A morph of Slayer/punk rock kids who got drunk, got in fights, cussed out tourists and in general were rotten menaces as well as some of my favorite people. I started smoking in the alleys off the sand with them at like age 11, and stealing beer before we could drive. No matter how hard core though, regardless the drunk middle of the night piercings at the skate shop downtown or the kids-from-pennsylvania's-house someone stole all that pot from, no matter who you are or were or how you define yourself, the beach makes it so you can't escape the one mighty power bigger than you.
I mean, at the end of the day isn't that what we're doing living here? O holy ocean, where I watch and learn consistancy: all that is rises and falls--every day there is the sameness inside of change.
I was coming off acid, I was 18, I was sitting in the dunes at the surf spot on 48th and the high itchy grass was squiggling up my legs. The sky was grey and big stretching in a way that I could actually feel: there was a pull to it, as if the energy was getting collected for something.
Days later came a hurricane that I first saw written in the sky.
LSD or not, it is a bottom line: all things are connected. This isn't mythical, magical, political or sacrilege. It simply Is. The same as certain foods give the ecology of your body heart burn or make you sleepy or fill you with fuel, this is the same as the ecology of the earth and its cosmos. The house on your street delivers water to you from a local treatment facility, that water came once from the sky, where it was sucked up on the air out of the respiration process of the trees. The trees in your yard, the farm field with feed corn growing a mile from here, they wither or wilt or become buoyant and green from the chemicals that enhance them and the hydrogen and oxygen molecules coming in and out of Your lungs, from the heat and light energy, the mineral and vitamin full fuel our life system calls the sun. The new diner on the block with the sewer grate under the tire where you park and the pigeon picking at the gum wrapper on the cement outside, those runny underdone eggs on your plate and the potatoes with not enough salt--out of the chicken- feed pecked off the earth, the tubers grown in dark dirt, the eggshells full of calcium that will add nutrients back to the land...so you are, so you sustain.
From the oneness amoebic with gills for respiration we rose up, and back to the oneness each and every one of us, regardless our after life beliefs, will go back. And the larger secret: Of the Oneness, we still are. There need be no other truth than this, indeed to this grl it is simply Sacred as it gets. We are one we are one we are one, at the end of the day chemically, molecularly, with skin trained to catch a back draft of spring wind or eyes only set on the tv, we are one.
So to be a wild woman, to be one versed or with inherent or even learned understanding of this oneness is to be of the wise woman ways. It means the ego, that funny neuron-fired lapse of luckiness that makes one aware so deeply of his own belly button hole, really in the grand rapid flash of all things gets no more than a milisecond of say.
That sans the wirey brain's programming, the negotiations with yourself through whatever routines or practices or beliefs required, unnecessary, there is the still place, same as the trees or the earth, the pigeons or the chickens, the farm fields or the ocean, and it is within. It is the same, but different, no more or less an impact though. Each a microscopic sliver of the holy whole.
There is no truth that is single, single truths eliminate every other part.
The ocean teaches this: the way the waves rise high, run in a certain direction, come with a specific wind. She will tell you the weather if you learn to train you nose, your eyes, your skin to be open to such things. How the tides roll so fat and wide, a roll I always feel in my stomach, when the moon is closer and closer to full. The moon with the magnetism so strong she pulls at the water, pulls at the water which is part of the very blood, of the very magnetism you generate inside and outside of you.
There is no truth that is alone, there is only the All, that Is. Our funny human ways of up and down within this process.
It is hailing out right now, ice balls popping like movie popcorn off the green bucket of my front lawn. The air is buoyant in how it sits and lifts, and cool when it shafts in on a breeze. So oneness is: a process. All things are, all that is, Is.
In the middle of the night, Monday into Tuesday May 17, the moon will be at her fullest, right around one in the morning here on the East Coast or four in the morning out West. She will reflect totally the light heat magnetism of the sun, who is in the part of the sky that long ago was named Taurus. This part of the whole, Taurus the Bull, brings to us a fixed but charging energy meant to bring matter in to form. Your deepest yearnings will be about how to manifest--your deepest pangs will come from resisting the building process. Not going, in other words, with the flow.
The light will shine brightly on all that is. Beltane is the conjunction of spirit and flesh: bringing Life in to forms you can see. As the moon readies and reaches her peak (only to diminish and disappear again) what is it, from within, you will see?
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