The Full Wolf Moon

The weather forecast is not as I had hoped; showers tomorrow for my full moon.  I feel denied, disappointed, and otherwise moody; didn't the universe know how important seeing the full moon this month would be?  With my self importance fully established, I meander downstairs to get a cup of coffee.  I fuss with some sketches I have been working on as the coffee brews.  My planned notion of how I would celebrate this moon comes crashing down and I sulk, staring out the gray window at another cloudy and drizzly day in Sedona.

But something more profound is percolating in my pool of self pity. I try to let my thoughts settle; let my river of mud clear enough to see the bottom as I move forward with my day.  I drink my coffee as I get on with the business of my morning routine.  My plans today are to visit V-bar-V petro glyph site, part of the Coconino National Forest where this rental house is sweetly nestled.  The weather is crappy by Arizona standards, but can I really complain? Back East, in New Jersey, where I hail from, is in the teens.  Snow in the forecast.   Here I sit in 60 degree weather whining about the gray sky.  Get some perspective, girl...I scold myself...and that thought in the background begins to become apparent.

Ahh...Expectations. Yes.  The full moon ramble starts to form in mind, but I still have those plans to get to V-Bar-V before the showers this afternoon.  I let the word simmer in my head space as I drive.  I am driving to a site of ancient petro glyphs...how does that interplay?

I rationalize that for life to form, some components had to be in place and consistently available.  Of these, sunlight, air, and nourishment seem relative to modern life.  We expect the sun to rise, our eyes to open, our lungs to breathe fully each morning; their existence is assumed for us to function in the most minimal of ways.  We take them for granted.

Yet, our ancestral kin did not.  They held themselves accountable for these gifts; honoring gods and goddesses with sacrifices, idolization, and ceremony.  If the sun rose, well, it was because the sun deity was pleased.  If the moon shone, it was because they had honored the moon maiden as she deemed fit.  They contextualized a world that they were an intricate part of...a cog that moved the wheel.  They did not assume it would exist just because it should...or that they wanted it to...or because they deserved it.  They took responsibility.

Our modern understanding of natural forces exist within the framework of science.  We understand that the sun will rise whether there are humans on the planet or not and as such, we decree them separate from ourselves...not our concern.  The planet spins, the moon rotates, and gravity keeps our atmosphere in place.  We assume no responsibility; yet, we expect it to be just so, daily, for eternity.

However, modern science is now indicating that we do have responsibilities, don't we? We have the capacity to obliterate each other and ourselves over squabbles of religion, power, land, and commerce.  We have developed a society where New and Shiny are our gods. We live in self indulgent indifference to natural processes that contribute to our atmosphere, water and soil.  We waste. Waste. Waste.

I sigh and climb off my hypocritical soapbox, take a second to collect my thoughts and get back to the word 'expectations'.  Buddhist dogma might suggest that expectations are a version of clinging; a need to control our world instead of simply accepting.  Our disappoint is our dukkha, our suffering; by releasing our egocentric view and allowing life to flow, we can avoid such pain.  I agree that this will achieve the desired result, but I can't live like that.  It isn't that I truly cannot; it is that I choose not to.  I like to view a future where really cool, super fun, awesome things happen.  I want life to be a party.  So, yea, I get disappointed and sulk occasionally. I accept that as part and parcel of planning and working towards certain goals and events.

Expectations are not a curse if we learn to quickly accept that which we cannot control; i.e. things like the weather and traffic.  Must adults handle these situations with dignified resignation when confronted.  The denied expectations that we aren't so congenial about are the ones we think we are owed.  We have been good, nice, kind, hard working...why isn't the universe being fair?  or our significant other? Why can't he/she read our minds?  Why do they selfishly want what they want?  Can't they see that we want something else? 
  

Instead of moving on, we skulk, kick our feet, and try our best to make sure everyone around us knows we are miserable. If we can't have what we deserve, then we won't let them enjoy what they deserve.  We are all guilty of this in some form; we don't congratulate friends on good news that we covet for ourselves.  We down play a great restaurant because we really wanted to go Senior Bob's Hot Dogs.  We deny our partner affection because he said our ass was adorably chubby. This is true dukkha, for it doesn't only cause us pain, but everyone around us.  This is our ego at its worst.

So, my dear full Wolf Moon won't be visible.  I deserved it to be, didn't I?  I was nice, kind, good, fair and all that other stuff that we all think makes us special.  Perhaps if I had a sacrifice? My Ego is just hanging around, talking trash from the sofa...

...and a new full moon plan emerges...

The webs we weave...

Pete and I were hiking in Fay Canyon last weekend.  The weather was perfect and our mood mirrored it.  The hike is an easy one mile in and out affair; we were walking back when we discovered this trail side, nestled into a bush.  It was beautiful, but also ugly; someone had ripped apart cactus to create it. Yet, they did so with intent to create this intricate weave.  What did it mean to them?  Did they honor the cactus with this gesture?  The answers remain only known to the weaver and the universe.

But is it a real sign?

My piercing scream brings him running. He finds me half in the closet, pointing intently at the floor.  He looks to where my finger leads, and then his eyes return to mine as if to say "don't move" before he races back to the kitchen to retrieve a gathering device.

I watched speechless as he rodeos the small lobster on the floor into the plastic cup with a rolled up magazine. I can't imagine why there was a live lobster on the floor, so small, so far from the ocean.  After all, this is Sedona...4500 feet above sea level, hundreds of miles from any ocean, let alone the ocean where lobsters might thrive. My man remains cool as the lobster bounces around inside the plastic cup with the magazine clamped tightly over the top.  I begin to straighten myself up, retreat the closet, pull my brain out of my adrenaline laced fear as he relocates the critter to the wilds of our front patio.

"What was that? It looked like a lobster..." I ask him.

"Lobster??" he repeats with a smile. "Bren, that was a scorpion."

Scorpion? As in SCORPION?!?  My mind vacates and the adrenaline races back. I am barefoot. He is barefoot.  Why didn't the rental agreement mention scorpions?  Why has NO ONE mentioned scorpions?  Doesn't a scorpion sting kill you?  Wasn't that why all the cowboys checked their boots?

My mind races along on scorpion highway...I haven't checked my boots once or my sneakers, for that matter.  At night, for lack of a chair or other valet type device, I have been leaving my robe on the floor.  I have been barefoot for most of the time.  Why has there been no scorpion advisement?  On hikes, I watch for rattle snakes (sort of), but scorpions have been of no concern to me. In fact, the shaman I have spent time with on three occasions, has not shown any concern either.

I carefully walk towards the place I have been leaving my shoes and check them all. No scorpions.  I shake my slippers out and then tentatively slip them on. Pete smiles at me, but he has that tightness along his jaw line.  We are both introspective and I instantly crave information.  I settle on the sofa, pick up my iPad and immerse myself in scorpion facts.  The searches for scorpions in Sedona lead to nothing useful, so I try Phoenix. Bingo. Scorpion data fills my screen. Striped scorpions, Bark scorpions, scorpion stings, scorpion lore.  Bark scorpions are by far the worst, but even a Bark scorpion won't kill a healthy adult.  The sting may swell; numbness and extreme pain seem common.  I read countless accounts of scorpion stings. I look at sting photos.  I look at page after page of amateur scorpion photos. The scorpion on the floor was not a Bark scorpion, but I am unsure of what kind it was.  Apparently, it was less poisonous than a Bark scorpion; I learn that the larger the front claws and the smaller the tail, the less venomous the scorpion. I recite my freshly obtained scorpion facts to Pete in an endless monologue as the hour passes; finally Pete is prompted to start an intervention. He tells me not to obsess, that we have visited here three times and have never seen one.  Then he mentions that I have been here three weeks and I have never seen one.  Good point.

"Do you know what is really amazing about the scorpion?" he asks me.

"No, what?"

"That it showed itself while I was here."

I smile, and then laugh. "Yea, that is amazing..." I say sincerely.  He is usually traveling when things like this occur at home.  I picture myself alone with the lobster.  I would have tried to smash it somehow...I would have screamed as it chased me around the room.  I shake the image from my mind...

Sleep occurs, as my body is tired; despite the activity of my mind.  The morning light brings a fresh notion- I should delve into the symbology.  Is it a messenger of the spirits that I encountered the day before with the shaman?

I dig into the metaphysical side of my nemesis in the bright sunlight of a gorgeous warm morning.  Scorpions indicate powerful transformation.  There is a strong tie to symbolic death and rebirth. Isolation / defense is a strong indication as well.  I am living here alone again after Pete leaves...what does this possibly mean?

We get ready for a day of hiking and as we are about to get in the car, Pete says "Hey, there is another scorpion here."  He instantly looks sheepish and adds "Why did I just say that? You're paranoid enough..."  But I come over and take a peak. This one is orange and translucent. Small pincers. Long  stinger. It is definitely a Bark scorpion.  The ten year old boy in Pete takes over and he wants to poke at it, but I am alarmed at his lack of fear. He sees my fear and relents. We get in the car, leaving Scorpion Manor, heading towards a coffee shop.

I ask the young male cashier how often he has seen a scorpion in Sedona.  His answer surprises me; he tells me he worked at the Hyatt Resort in maintenance before this job. He says he has never seen a scorpion, but tarantulas are not uncommon.   Tarantulas?  as in TARANTULAS?!? Ack!! More to fear!  The espresso barista chimes in that she has seen tarantulas and rattle snakes but never a scorpion.  In fact, she has never heard of anyone seeing one in Sedona.  Well then...she has now...

I see the local paper...a mountain lion has been spotted in a subdivision. Great. More fear.  Yet, the scorpion sighting seems to be rare enough to warrant a phone call to the shaman whom we saw the day before. In a foolish gesture of friendship, he had given me his cell phone number.  Poor man had no idea who he was dealing with...the Queen of Weird Phenomena.  He wisely does not pick up the call.

"Hi Akal. This is Brenda. I am curious how common scorpions are as Pete and I just saw two different varieties, one in the house, one in the driveway in a ten hour period. I know I'm crazy, but is it a sign? I know, I know, everything is a sign...but is this a real sign? (I laugh here...so much assumption) So, if you have a moment, could you please give me a call back?  Thanks!"

His answer comes back also as a voicemail. He discusses that scorpions are extremely rare in Sedona and that this is definitely a sign. A real sign. He rattles off scorpion totem attributes and then adds that when I acknowledge the message, the scorpions will leave me alone. Good, because Pete is leaving again. The image of a lobster chasing me around the room reemerges. No.

Pete and I discuss the various meanings and what might fit as a message.  Perhaps it is a lesson in our separation and the passion that binds he and I? Perhaps it is a warning for me to be prudent in my solitude?  I have been walking on endless trails with little regard for the safety of it.  Just a few days ago a group of women said that I must be brave to hike alone.  I looked at them questioningly...the thought never occurred to me. I was just walking.

A new thought pops into my head- maybe that is a message for Pete.  Why do I assume that only I have spirit guides?  Pete pauses and laughs.  Good point.  He ponders and comes up with nothing. 

I decide that the message is to be cautious with my solitude. Yes. That must be it.  With my decision comes some solace and I invent further rules to minimize the scorpion threat.  Chief among these are natural scorpion deterrents researched on the internet; scorpions avoid lavender. Aha!  I purchase lavender essential oil and anoint each doorway.  Second, scorpions can't climb stairs.  I probably made this one up, but at least I will sleep with some sense of security.  Third, scorpions are nocturnal, avoiding direct light. This one is fact.  I shall turn lights on in each room I enter to send the lobsters running. 

I just returned from dropping Pete off at the airport and so far, no sign of my evil adversary.  I give a small bow to the universe in thanks, rub lavender along the sill plate and lock the front door. 

Wood

a photo of a vortex swirled tree on Cathedral Rock.

Wax on, oh beautiful moon

I am a moon enthusiast. Yes. To put it mildly, I enjoy following the silvery shine of Luna as she moves across the night sky on her journey to circle the earth.  I like the pace of her movements each month.  She gives some time, but not too much, to meter our life.  Looking to verify progress on a life mission?  Her full moment, relatively twelve times a year, is the perfect event to recollect and rectify.  She gives light to the dark confusion of our lives, shining without fail approximately every 28 days.

Perhaps you need a more aggressive time table for your endeavors?  Follow her dark moments as well; her "newness" an equal opportunity to examine our hearts, our priorities.  She gives this woman pause at each phase; pondering whether her personal progress has measured up to her hopes.  Like I said, I am a moon enthusiast.

I had believed the moon to be waning (heading to the dark of the new moon). I decided I should find the new moon date so as to mark it, employ it as a time to regroup. Imagine my surprise this morning when I discovered the moon is waxing (heading towards full). I missed the new moon by a full five days.

I shook my head at my loss of time.  Clearly, I am very engaged in 'something' to have missed the moment.  I wonder what this 'something' is. I feel kind of lost of late.  I have been struggling with living alone in a rented house after over a quarter of a century living with my spouse.  We aren't separating...the time was planned in one of my half baked notions of 'personal growth'.  I felt that being alone might give me freedom to explore my art completely; immersing myself in productivity. I felt that living alone might make me stronger. My husband is a thoughtful, protective man.  I have been wondering if his good intentions kept me in a state of perpetual childhood.  Might I grow up? Take full responsibility for my well being?

As I typed that last sentence, I realize the folly of it.  I am in this rented house because of his unassuming care and income.  So much for total independence! But truthfully, I don't want to be truly alone. No.  This time here has made me appreciate the joy of a union.  To be bound to someone through the energetic connection of love is a profound blessing.  We truly are better together than apart. Our sum exceeds the two of us. So, gratitude emerges as well.  Because I am only playing at being alone...

I made a note of the full moon, arriving on the 26th.  I shall use that moment to profess my gratitude for my joys as I customarily do; but I shall also see what being alone has shown me.  Am I stronger?  Has my art flourished?  Has my own natural rhythm of living emerged?  I suspect my spouse will be contemplating his own changes as he gazes at the same moon, hundreds of miles apart.

One thing I am certain of...individual positive change can only make our union stronger.

the unoccupied mind

People always say that they wish they had some time to themselves with no obligations. As a person in that situation for the next few weeks, let me advise that it is more confusing than freeing.  I am unsure how to use my time, so I sit and ponder. How do I best use it?  Do I go for a walk when it is cooler or warmer?  Do I draw now that the light is good?  But hey, I realize that I need moisturizer...Do I go into town and buy that small list of items?  Do I indulge myself with a nap? or do I feel that is contrary to progress?  I have to do laundry...I have to make food.  I do neither.  I wonder why I am hungry. Idiot.  I draw for five hours, not moving, not drinking the much needed water for higher elevations. I finally move to use the bathroom. My hips hurt my the hard bench.  I finally notice it is 2:44 pm and I haven't showered or been outside.  i open the door. It is beautiful out and I reach for my sweatshirt. Wait.  You didn't eat. or do the laundry. Or shower.  Sigh.

I make myself go upstairs where the stunning views and the bedroom is.  I never cease to pause and stare.  I finally conclude that showering is the foremost activity.  I finish and the questions begin again. Take a walk? Go to town?  Arrrrrggggghhhh! 

Finally, I eat a bowl of cereal and throw on my jacket. I grab the rental car keys, the house keys and my purse. I wander aimlessly the aisles of the Safeway wondering why it is laid out so backwards and why are two aisles wine and alcohol?  No wonder the Asian section is one shelf space approximately three feet wide....gotta make room for tequila. I finally find moisturizer and pick the one that says 'intensive skin repair'.  I have to say that the elevation is causing havoc with my fine skin.  My hands hurt from how dry they are and my lips...oh god...let's not even discuss them.  Thankfully, my husband is not here to see the shreds of flesh that I pass for lips.

Now, driving back, I wonder how I spent an hour in the food store. Sigh. But once back, I dress quickly in hiking garb and trek up...pausing endlessly to catch my breath. Again, the elevation beats me back.  I do not quit, though, and soon i have a spectacular view of the red rocks.  I take a deep breath and another and wonder what I was fussing about. This is heaven.  My personal heaven.

so, another day and it is 1pm and I am still in jammies...