When the moon wanes, her fading light makes the cold night seem older and wilder somehow and I begin to feel the winter more deeply.
Lately, I’ve been finding comfort in the whispers of the grasses. I watch them in the fields on my walks. I see them dance with the winter breeze, speaking a breathy language of their own. Their voices sound like freedom, their rhythmic sway feels like grace. They calm my heart.
It’s difficult not to sense the ancient essence of what they once were when I walk and listen and feel beyond the surface. I wonder if sometimes at night these remnants of the once vast grasslands/savannahs that were here long before we built this city over them look up at the stars and dream. Do they dream of a time when lion walked among them and when herds of springbok grazed the grass stubble at their feet?
When I breathe their wild stories in then I feel my spirit set free a little more, a part of me swaying slowly side to side right there in their midst. A holy hush brushes up against me and I can’t imagine ever going back to a time when life was too busy to notice – this. Too busy to be still, to hear the wild Earth speak truth or to see the glimpses of sacredness that she mirrors to me.
I gathered a few pieces of grass for a little wild word mantra inspiration, to see what soul medicine they had to offer. I’ve been doing this more often lately. It’s a practise I’m trying to make more of a habit than an occasion exercise (and perhaps I’ll share of this more of the blog going forward too) because right now the mantras help me create a positive focus to centre on each week.
Here Are The Words That Came: Light, Flow, Dance, Whispers and Gentle.
My Wild Word Mantra this Week: I ignite my inner light when I surrender to the flow of life. I am willing to dance to the gentle rhythms of sacredness as I honour my heart’s whispers.
Some days I feel so blessed to experience little pieces of wild heaven. Like a moment beneath the linden trees when the wind washes through them and their yellowed leaves flutter in frenzy. Or like the tranquil silence between each leaf dropping to the earth, falling so slowly and gracefully like pretty pieces of soul-touched confetti.
I sat beneath the trees and breathed this heaven in – the stillness, the peace and the soothing whispers in the wind. I breathed in the wildness of quiet trees whose voices land softly on open hearts when they dance in the autumn gusts, and I remembered that the mysterious force that weaves together sacred scenes like this is the very essence that weaves together breath and blood and soul in me, in us all.
I’m amazed sometimes how small moments like this, just sitting with the earth, can be gifts that remind me how to contact the mysterious sacredness within and guide my heart out of tension into a place of graceful flowering.
Have you ever touched the silver moon on a clear and starry evening?
This is what you do…
When the sun has sunken behind the hills and the sky has turned to night, then gather a small bowl of clean water in your hands and wrap your fingers around it, nice and tight. Go out into the garden under the dreamy indigo sky and feel the soft grass under your feet as the bats and night birds fly.
Listen intently to the wild stories that the garden shadows whisper.
Look up to where mother moon is resting amongst the dancing stars and sit down beneath her. Collect her reflection on the water in your bowl and then sink your fingers into it, touching her circle of glowing light. Feel her wetness, so soft, cool and fluid. Feel the light of her soothing silver magic cleansing your hands as you touch her in the water. Cup your hands to gather her moon-drops in your palms and then wash them over your face. Let her healing flow over you and through you as you exhale, release and let her clear away everything that you are ready to let go of.
You are moon-touched, dear sister, because this is how you touch the moon.