Tag Archive | full moon

Gemini Full Moon

I was grateful today for abundant sunshine to charge the solar panels and melt a little ice once I’d shoveled the paths again. And to lift the spirits of many of us.

I was astonished to look out the west window and see a doe chewing on an old shed antler that was ornamenting the garden. She munched on it for a long time while her fawn nibbled some leaves under the snow. It reminded me it was lunchtime.

Today I was grateful for the last two slices of bread which I dressed with peanut butter and jam. But yesterday, as cold and grey as it was, I was really happy to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I used mayo on both slices but then remembered I had a smidge of that tomato butter Amy and I made back in September. I’d pulled it from the freezer to make room for turkey stock and been using it up all week. So I spread that on one side, layered cheddar and Havarti on the other, and closed the sandwich. Then I tried a trick we’d seen on Instagram, to spread mashed potatoes on the outsides of the bread before grilling.

It must have not been the right kind of potato. It looked great, but the bread was actually less crispy than a usual butter or mayo grilled cheese. I topped it with the single harvest from the hydroponic tomato experiment, which also looked great but felt like a little marble so I gave it to Wren for last bite.

My little philosopher…

It was a lovely day. After lunch I edited some meditations, including this one from my dear departed friend Cynthia Wilcox. The timing was perfect for “Sensing into Boundaries.” As I was editing it someone came to the door that I just couldn’t attend to in that moment and Cindy’s guidance supported me.

And before I knew it, the short day was over. I made sure not to miss the rising of the Gemini Full Moon, whatever that means. A friend had mentioned it this morning as meaningful to her, and later texted after she watched it rise six hours earlier in London. I’d been upstairs waiting for it but remembered I had to run out and dump the birdbath before it froze, and just as I got there the moon peeked over the mountains.

The birdbath was already frozen. We came inside after this shot. I love how the farthest peaks of Mount Gunnison are still in alpenglow and the moon highlights a ridge I’d never realized was part of the distant mountain.

These last two are through the window so there’s a bit of distortion. I considered what my friend had said, and looked up the significance of this moon. Yoga Journal offered a full and mindful analysis from which I’ve excerpted this:

“What makes this full Moon particularly potent is how Gemini teaches us that reality is malleable. The stories we tell ourselves about who we are, what is possible for us, and what we deserve directly shape our experiences. When we change our internal narrative, we change our external world. This is the secret power of Gemini—it shows us that a simple shift in perspective can unlock doors we didn’t even know existed.”

Clarity and Tenderness

Wren made a new little friend this evening when a neighbor spontaneously stopped by to check out a potential job upgrading the pond patio. Oddly, I had dreamt last night about her playing with a visiting chihuahua.

He and his little dog left just before the supermoon rose and we hurried up to the balcony to watch. Astrologically, I’m told, it’s a very special full moon in Taurus, giving us the opportunity to bring clarity and tenderness to our spirit and heart, and reflect on what we really want.

I’m grateful that Americans in many elections yesterday voted for what I really want, which is compassionate leadership. May clarity and tenderness prevail!

the Full Moon

Technically, it’s not full until Saturday sometime, but try telling that to tonight’s moon!

I’m grateful for all 745 full moons that I may or may not have noticed in my life thus far. Certainly over the past thirty-few years I have paid a lot more attention to the moon than I ever did during the previous decades when I lived in cities or suburbs. Since I’ve been living in rural America, I’ve been blessed to be tied to the rhythm of lunar cycles. My internal tides flow with the moon’s, rising and extending energy during waxing and full moons, settling and drawing in during waning and new moons. Or so it seems to me. And as Joan Didion famously said, “As a writer, it doesn’t matter how it was – what matters is how it was to me.” I think that’s how most of us feel. What matters is how it was to me.

I sing with the moons, I create with moons, I dance with moons. I used to bleed with the moons (I’m grateful I’m done with that! Fat lot of good it ever did me). I plant with the moons: I plant root crops after the full moon, when energy is pulled downward into the earth; and leaf crops after the new moon, when energy is pulled upward. I walk outside at night in the full moon without a flashlight, with only a dog and his extra senses to guide me through shadows. I’m grateful to live in awareness of the moon as a tidal force, a light source, a constant companion through 745 months of living. Seven hundred and forty-five… that’s not all that many… how many more full moons will I live to see, I wonder. Death is certain, time of death uncertain. Everything changes all the time, just like the moon.