Hecate’s Spring Moon 2019

 

The Frog Moon will be full in a few minutes and I want to remember this moon in particular because I have longed for and mourned the absence of frog sounds for three years… eventually coming to believe the sound of those primal denizens of the waters would forever be withheld…

 

Frogs have been calling to me since I was a child.

 

The frog world continued to remain eerily silent as I witnessed the drought shrinking the desert landscape into a parched skeleton. I heard the trees scream as forest fires raged and my own breathing became labored and ragged.

 

I thought I was dying.

 

Literally brought to my knees, I finally accepted that there was nothing left to do but accept what was…

 

Climate Change had turned the Earth into a Ball of Fire.

 

Then the winter of 2018-19 brought reprieve. First rain and then snow graced the land. This spring the arroyos are running. I built a toad pond, and with great joy I am once again celebrating – participating in the Greening of the Earth.

 

Even if this reprieve is temporary I have the choice to focus on Now.

 

At the edge of this second Spring moon – The Frog Moon – I continue to make the choice to honor each turning with more gratitude than I ever believed possible, although I find it ironic that this year the full moon falls on the day of christian crucifixion – ‘good friday.’ It’s important to note that in ancient female centered story (pre-dating patriarchy) various male vegetation gods were always sacrificed in the spring so that the crops might grow.

 

Today it is the Body of the Earth that is being sacrificed – crucified, the body upon which all species depend upon for life.

 

For me, there is nothing left to say or do – almost no one is listening.

 

But like Hecate, Greek goddess of liminal spaces and the crossroads (water and earth) I can bear witness to what is and give thanks for my life and that of every frog  who still lives on this planet.

 

I cultivate this attitude out of deep awareness and interconnection with all that is.

 

Lately I have been dreaming about roots. As Hecate’s daughter my roots seek living waters, and the stability that comes from being One with the Land.

 

Last night I heard the poignant melody as I gazed into a cracked moon rising up through the cottonwoods. Although the diminutive tree frog was hidden from sight, he cried out for Life.

 

It wasn’t until I took the moon picture that I saw the owl. Like the frog, the owl is another of Hecate’s familiars or animal aspects (beyond gender). On a personal level the owl is the silent presence of the spirit of my mother – she who witnesses in the dark.

 

We three, woman, frog, and owl stay present for each other and for the Earth as we acknowledge what is, and ultimately – the relativity of both joy and sorrow.

 

We also live in the truth that with every frog refrain, the Song of Life Lives On.

Hecate’s Moon

Hecate’s Moon

is the piercing thorn

of a wilted white rose.

 

Frost covered, she rises over

bare trees shorn of leaves –

crackling obscenities.

 

Fog obscures her face,

obliterating any attempt

to categorize or capture essence.

 

Blood stains the river

that flows unimpeded

in this crack between her

worlds.

 

Listen, and you will hear

wild cats screech,

coyotes howl,

owls shriek.

 

I lay low.

 

She is what She Is,

A force to be reckoned with,

this Dark Side of

the Moon.

 

 

Working notes:

 

So many feminist spiritual traditions attempt to lighten the dark powers of this (Greek) mythological underworld figure who is multi -valenced and can be found in some form in every mythology. She lives underground seething in  silence and acts as a bridge between above and below as she moves between worlds. She slices our nights in two – living through the dreamtime – a specter unseen but experienced when the Earth turns dark. I think she comes now not because of the changing seasons but because gun violence*, rape, and the deaths of thousands of innocent people, trees, plants, seeds, and animals have become the new “normal.” Unspeakable acts of horror have come to define who we are as a people.

 

Hecate is, above all, the transformer holding living and dying in precarious balance until the scales tip too far. When she steps in with a scythe in her hand, beware because her force is deadly, and none are spared. Hecate’s wrath is boundless, her time draws near…

 

This month Hecate’s appearance also informs us that the end of the year is almost upon us. Her Full Moon, and the Feast of the Dead which is held over the last days of this month and stretches into November, ushers us into her world – a three way crossroad – Cairns mark the place between that which has gone before, the present moment, and whatever is destined to come.

 

Hooded, she walks alone and we spin through her once starry spirals turned to dust in dense matter. Spirals, patterns in Nature, remind us that as we spin out of control we are destined to implode.

 

*Note: in the middle of writing about gun violence at twilight, massive machine gun explosions cause us ( my dogs and me) to jump out of our animal skins. We live in a war zone,  one as yet, legally undefined.

The next morning hounds howl in a frenzy as they tree a hapless bear who will then be shot.

Hecate’s Moon

 

Lupita, Guadalupe –

Your agave points of light glow in grave darkness.

 

Hecate’s Moon is Red.

The Raven slices the sky into shards.

The River catches shivering stars.

 

We remember the First Mother…

Patiently, painfully,

we return the parts to the Whole.

 

See the Wolf who hides behind the Tree?

Welcome him in.

Only then can we begin…

 

Lupita, Guadalupe –

Your agave points of light glow in grave darkness.

 

Photo credits: I took this photograph when visiting the studio of artist Armando – Adrian Lopez whose work in mixed media produced this vision of Guadalupe.

Working notes…

Guadalupe is the Native “Mother of the Americas” – not the Virgin Mary as often suggested but an ancient Earth goddess. She is dark skinned and an Indian. Curiously, Lupita is the diminutive form of Guadalupe. Lupe means wolf. I was surprised to learn that the name Guadalupe means river of black stones or valley of the wolf. I was intrigued by the inclusion of both dark and light (wild and tame) in Guadalupe’s naming. She is a goddess of wholeness whose light continues to shine in a broken patriarchal culture.

Hecate’s moon is the last moon of the year according to some earth based traditions, and here I aspect her as the goddess who ushers in the dark months ahead in the northern hemisphere and the return to chaos.