In the waning moon

Ages and ages ago, before I knew any of the signs or what phase the moon was in, I'd read the day by standing still and listening. Not listening -- exactly -- sensing would be more like it. Taking a reading of the air to know what was coming. And I'd quote Bible -- "Sufficient to this day is the evil thereof..." to remind myself that each day was itself and there was no need to look beyond that one.

It was a good enough coping mechanism, but it didn't get me anywhere. There were no cycles of things -- each day had itself, only, and so, there was no continuance of the story. It was a chicken little kind of falling sky way of seeing things. I'd feel the moon but not know it was the moon.

As a kid, my Mom would say, "I want something. I just don't know what it is." If I knew then what I know now, I'd look to see what the moon was doing and I bet it would be waning, and possibly in those three days before the new moon came to claim the night sky.

Right now, the moon is in Scorpio. It's at the end of its cycle, waning down into the dark moon. The Goddess of this moon is Hlin. She is accustomed to sorrow and she is also the consoling one. Scorpio is intense. Transformation, death, other people's energy, sex, secrets, and sorrows make up the eigth house which is Scorpio's place in the wheel.

Joan Baez sings a Dylan song. "This restless hungry feeling never meant no one no good -- when the things that I'm saying, you could say them just as good..."

Time drags at the end of the moon. Energy fizzles and clocks run down. If there's rain, it's silent and cold. Lights glare and fires go out. I am absolutely certain that nothing I'm doing is worthwhile, and furthurmore, you're wasting your time, too.

At the end of a moon, I do not like the things I needed a week ago. My house is full of things that I'll never use again, and they drag the past along with them, leaving slug trails in the dust. This is especially so when the moon that's waning is the Scorpio moon. It's a moon that snuggles too closely to my Saturn, slowing even more, weighing so heavily on the inroads of decisions and motivation that I can scarecely remember to lift my feet when walking.

If I sound depressed, it isn't so. I thought ahead. I'm in the middle of a project, tying those knots one after another toward the end of another knitted something. I've got a book I'm purposefully in the middle of, so the momentum will pry open the page for me. It is not a good time to start something new and I wouldn't if it was. All I can do is what I've already set aside to do during this time -- a candle is lit, and the house is sweet with insence and the smell of cinnamon.

Best of all, I know this is not a place I've arrived, at the end of a straight line that brougt me here to leave me in ashes. I know that shortly, the moon will turn, the energy coming will be new and will belong to my favorite Goddess, Saga, in the Sagittarius moon cycle. Each fading moon renews itself as sleep gives way to waking.

Like the moon and winter, I've gone dormant. I'll work and wait and enjoy the sleep. And though, like Mom, I might wish for that something I want that is just out of reach, unlike her, I know what it is I'll find in reaching. I'll catch what this dark moon has for me, which is the ability to let go of what I don't need, and free up the energy for the new cycle that soon begins.

Each day is a gift and though it's all new, it's also all familiar. I've been here before, I'm not taken by surprise. And what I'm feeling is mystery and as comforting as a cloak of midnight-colored cloth, or a patchwork quilt wrapped snug around me.

Hail Hlin! And Hail the waning moon.