This morning I woke up in a cabin in the woods. The sun was rising and the dogs were itching to be let out. The garden was calling, and we reached her just as the first sun grazed the echinacea plants.
I washed my face with a calendula blossom which sparkled with morning dew. I closed my eyes to absorb the warmth of the sun, and allowed it to penetrate my body, pushing away the frosty morning chill. The blossom, gliding across my face, washed away the night which had been filled with strange dreams and my racing heart. I sat silently in the garden, painting my face with sun colored strokes.
Here I am, I thought. Like many times before, I'm about to say goodbye again to my childhood home. This time, I'm ready. I'm ready to close a cycle I once thought was just a ghost but now I know is real. Let me explain:
This particular eclipse is closing a cycle which started in September 1998. To read more about the astrological details about this eclipse check out my friend Jenn Racioppi and her report about this eclipse here.
Eighteen years ago this place, the land of cabins in the woods and morning dew, was about to became my home. I was six years old, and transitioning with my family from a life in Manhattan to Camden, Maine.
My uncle, my fathers identical twin brother, had committed suicide in this quiet slice of New England. My father, being tethered to an invisible cord, eventually pulled us to this picturesque place to live a new life and uncover the secret of small town living.
I grew and flourished and ran in the Maine woods, losing the hard edge I had acquired in New York City public school system. Maine became home. When I fell ill, home became a feeling of being trapped. The ghost of a thing, being stuck in one place, never leaves.
Today, on the full moon, I went to my uncles grave. Not to release him- he is peaceful, attentive and close at hand to my father when he is needed- but to free myself: a child swept up by an invisible cord and the loyalty to place and grief.
Thank you I say, and place a few small plants on his grave. Thank you for keeping us safe, thank you for keeping my family together. I have known many people who have passed, and have felt their wings. Now, I claim my own.
I'd love to hear your reflections on what you can let go of as this full lunar eclipse cycle closes.
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