I pay more attention to the moon living on the farm than I ever did in suburbia.
Maybe this is because with a dark night sky I simply see it more often. I'm actually more in tune with all aspects of nature than I used to be.
Taking care of animals who live outside means that you get to spend a lot of time outside - and the seasons and weather are not always favorable.
So you take note.
I plan my days based on the number of daylight hours I have that day, the weather forecast, the upcoming season, the sun, the wind, and the rain. And I've really come to appreciate tracking the seasons through the Celtic Wheel of the Year. (Did you know that Groundhog Day is on Imbolic, the Celtic festival of fire and light. It marks the mid way point between the Winter solstice and Spring equinox - celebrating the start of agricultural spring, the goddess Brigid, and new beginnings?)
For me, it is always in cold of December and January, when I feed animals in the dark as much as I do the light, that I pay special attention to the moon. When it's bright I have no need for artificial light. A half moon or more will do the trick to help light my way.
But when the moon is full, being out there bathing in its light is nothing short of magical.
It is an eerie sort of light that is inviting and awe inspiring. It covers the entire landscape in a silver glow and casts shadows as big as the afternoon sun. I have to pause and take it in with all of my senses. I see the light and shadow. I feel the glow on my skin. I hear the night creatures softly stirring, or the coyotes wailing. The moon seems to draw the earthiness right out of the ground and makes the air smell and taste like cool earth. Bathing in the light of the moon I feel grounded and connected to all that is life here on earth.
The full moon is a time to see what is here, now.
It shines a light on the culmination of all of our hard work.
It grounds us in the present moment.
It allows us to see and appreciate the fullness of life, the completeness of our efforts.
But the full moon can also be weighty.
It signals an ending.
It can feel so full and complete that we almost forget that endings are merely a signal for change
-
or the next beginning.
In contrast to the full moon, when the moon is new it can be so dark that I stumble and have a hard time seeing my hand in front of my face.
Everything is a mystery.
Everything is a possibility.
Then, I gaze to the heavens and take in the multitude of stars. I am grateful for the darkness. I am grateful for the mystery it provides.
Again, I must pause to take this in with all of my senses. I see constellations and the Milky Way. I find the North Star. I feel a coolness in the air, even if it is the middle of summer. The atmosphere smells and tastes fresh and light. Sometimes the only sound is that of my heart beating.
Anticipation and awe.
I am so small in the face of all these stars and other planets in the universe. There is a lightness that feels almost free of gravity, a sense of wonder, a pull into the unknown.
The new moon is a time to see possibilities. It is a time of beginning, fresh starts, and new ideas.
This is where the change begins to take shape.