The full moon in August is a special time that feels like the early beginnings of rest and renewal for the earth, and for ourselves. Of course, the beginning of something usually happens because something else has just ended, and this time in August feels the most full of intense activity, which must slow to quiet, even if the slowing is from exhaustion. The card readings at my Journey Oracle table at the Market here on Cortes Island have reached the peak when no more will fit into the allotted time, the planning for my art show of shamanic journey art and painted drums have gone as far as preparations and setting up will allow, there is no more time to take on art commissions until the leaves are turning color, and harvesting and canning are beginning to reach the limit of freezer space and jars. It must be time to go sailing.
We came back last night from a holiday on the water--where it is very difficult to be in intense activity of the earth-based sort. We participated instead in a Full Moon Regatta which gave us the opportunity to watch sunsets and join in cruising races, visit over potluck suppers,and especially, lie in our bunks in the shimmer of moon light on water and feel the slow rise and fall of Mother Ocean. Even now--if I close my eyes and go very still, I can feel her breathing echo through my water body.
