This full moon has me feeling seen. The first rays of the Spring sun, as harsh and unforgiving as a DMV photo or a scorned lover. Search lights glaring, choppers overhead, naked in the desert with nowhere to hide.
This moon brings me to necessary stillness again, like the last one did. My throat and lungs are coughing, whole body contracting, in hopes of expelling— what, exactly? Truths not spoken, apologies mumbled? Or maybe I’m choking on the slice of humble pie that spirit seems to have planted on a plate squarely in front of me. “You can’t get up from your seat until you finish your dessert!” It’s also possible that it’s just a deep thirst; a need for cool, cleansing water to clear out all of the energetic muck I’ve accumulated during the winter.
That is the biggest shock of this revealing light- this insidious muck. Made up of the shrouds and shields I’ve guarded myself with, the bitter remnants of anger, guilt, shame, & fear— oh, the fear! The fear that has subconsciously kept me feeling small. The echoes of the ghosts that haunt me, and the lingering ties to past people and situations that I can’t seem to fully shake.
What is hiding in my liver, my skin, my heart? How about my aura, or my right rear rib cage? What are these enigmatic shadows that I was blissfully ignorant of until this beautiful, devastating light entered my field of vision? How do I uproot them, honor them, and compost them?
I feel like I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. Like I’ve been blindly promising it to myself since the Winter Solstice. “Once we make it to Spring, things will be better. We will have survived whatever the winter throws at us”. Comforted by the idea of this day as a refuge, a miracle, a mirage.
However, in keeping my vision future-forward, in daydreaming about lush gardens and pure potential, I forgot about one essential fact. Fertile harvests require healthy soil. There is not a thing that I can grow in my garden until I get my ground right. Until I have ground that is healthy, balanced, and full of diverse nutrients capable of supporting life. Soil that is freshly tilled, free of old growths and weeds, and in a pleasant spot that gets plenty of wind, rain, and sun.
And so, on this day of the Spring Equinox, I begin the work of digging out the rot & the rocks. The work of collecting that which has not yet been processed, and finding the proper place for it. The work of tending to my soil, singing to it, loving it, and creating something plainly beautiful in the light of my new springtime awareness.