Thanksgiving: the Waning Crescent Beaver Moon

I stare at the dead bird in my sink, water cascading over its rubbery bald breast.  This bird came to me 'organically'; it spent its days free ranging at a local farm, eating organic vegetarian turkey chow. It spent its days growing in the sunlight and in the rain.  It spent its days living.  

But no more. I wonder if it was unsuspecting when rustled to slaughter.  Did it know that all its days were spent making my family and I one meal?  

This is our first organic, local turkey; despite preparing Thanksgiving dinner for over a quarter of century. The large frozen turkey-shaped blocks have been my staple for years. They did not run free, eat yummy turkey snacks.  These birds were raised in a cage, fed beef and chicken byproducts, given hormones to make them large and antibiotics to fight off the innumerable outbreaks of bacteria.  BUT they spent their days living.

No more. These birds are in some other house, some other sink, being hosed down as well.

I look at the empty cavity and feel an ache.  My heart is as empty as this bird and I wonder where I can find a recipe to fill it.  The turkey's stuffing is on the stove, ready to shove into its cavernous hole; but where can I find some warm and nutritious filling for my own vacancy?  

I sigh and let my mind move forward to the meal; the warmth of familial love is a blessing I can not take lightly. The bounty of food that will fill our bellies and spill into tupperware for numerous more meals is a gift that is not to be understated.  The hearth fire, where I will drop my overstuffed self to rest, is HOME in all senses of the word.  My tummy will feel swollen and uncomfortable, but a walk will set it right.  And then, we can begin again with sandwiches and pie...

I have love. I have food. I have shelter.  I have health.

Yet, the emptiness remains...fully of my own making; a luxury of my comfortable life. It is a puzzle to unravel over many future moons until one day I heal the wounds of my own knife.  And on that day I shall rejoice.

But for TODAY, I will pause and acknowledge every last blessing that has come my way, deserving or not. For today, I will be thankful. Truly thankful. For I am blessed.

I start by bowing to my dead friend in the sink.  Namaste, Turkey. 
AND continue by bowing to you...
May blessings be yours.

Darkness; the New Beaver Moon

The night has been dark.

I woke from a nightmare last night with a start. They say you can't die in your dream, but I was doing just that. I woke in the blackness, unsure. Then my partner made his unique snort purr and I knew it was not death...just darkness. Heavy.  Heavy darkness.

The night has been long.

Daylight savings time ended; the morning is more hopeful, but dusk circles early and captures us unprepared.  I am eating too much, like a bear preparing to hibernate.  Although I am in a nesting mode, I am also sleeping too much.  I am fidgety, waiting, restless.  

I am beaver. 

Hurrying to make my home winter friendly, safe, secure, warm.  Scurrying to find the comfort and joy in the coming cold and dark months.  This moon and the following Cold moon are the darkest in the year; daylight is still decreasing as the air grows chillier.  Perhaps that is why the solstice was celebrated so joyfully.  The promise of light overpowering darkness. Who couldn't find joy in that?

But first, we must prepare...