Hunger Moon

A foot on either side of the chasm, we are in-between elements, in-between seasons, in-between worlds even. The truth is that liminal spaces greet us everywhere: in the slipping cusp of moon and sun, at the end of each breath, in the soft edges of sleep. But there is something shifty, even a little unpredictable and scary about these in-betweens. 

The old ones considered this the time of the hunger moons. Our bellies may not be ringing with hollowness but there is still a strange appetite that starts to arise in us, a longing for something fresh, reinvigorated. In my animal body, I am aware of the subtle crust that has accumulated over the winter, like I could scrub off a few inches of physical and emotional “skin.” The sap has started to run deep within my veins and this movement is stirring cravings for new recipes, new walking paths, new inspirations. 

An itch for levity and growth is taking hold within us, in the land all around us and yet we are all so very heavy with this world. Deep in the depths of a global soul crisis, we may feel particularly susceptible to these fluctuations of compression and dilation, hope and despair, and most definitely frustration, restlessness, even rage. 

Riding these rough seas, at times we may feel our hearts sinking into the abyss, at other times a secretive howl buoys them back to the surface. In daily conversation with my heart (speaking as gently as I can), I ask: Dear one, teach me what you know about expansion and contraction…

And it answers:

Pray for fierceness,

Pray for softness,

Pray for the wisdom to know when to hold on tight and when to let go. 

It tells me to let go of waiting for things to “get better.” Whatever that even means. Instead it says, know your emergency. Hold it tight. Let it chew on you, reconfigure you, move you that much closer towards what you love.

Excerpt from the 3/5/22 Newsletter: A Heart Buoy in Times of Unanchoring