I’d howl at the moon, if I could.

vostok 91, flickr

vostok 91, flickr

My usual coffee and dark chocolate can’t penetrate the fog I am in.

My eyes are slits, burning and itchy all day long.

It’s not PMS. I’m not about to start anything on my blessed moon cycle.

However, my contemplations appear slightly depressive. My humanness feels frumpy and thoroughly deflated. My cotton yoga capris are extra constricting. Creativity is fleeting; it is somewhere between drowsy bees buzzing and a web weaving arachnid. I don’t even like spiders and I’m finding them endearing.

Meanwhile there are countless folks, exuberant as we approach a super full Moon.

As for me, I’m extra weepy. Sensitivia should have been my name. I cry at seeing a bunny hop across our lawn.

Pervasive fatigue has crept in and there’s a delirious desire to hibernate in summer.

If only I could turn wolf-like at nightfall and shake this nasty heaviness. It would surely cure the extent of my emotional demise. Actually, I don’t believe I could muster a howl; perhaps a yip-yip. More likely I’d be found wandering and wailing and whimpering; a soulful wolf, longing to find my pack.

Truly, as I etch out this writing, my hair feels matted and my ears are definitely flat.

For the last week, restful sleep has been evasive. I pull the blankets over my head. It doesn’t block her bright Moon exquisiteness. Instead the light expands and persists. In my mere mortal attempts to avoid, I only disturb my house-tiger with my fitful tugs and twitching.

I fantasize slipping off to a remote island. I mumble and reshuffle my pillows. Nevertheless, I know her silvery moonlight will always find me even if I dwelled in a cave under the sea. It’s as if she’s piercing deeply to recalibrate something dormant within.

“Sensitivity is a gift,” she whispers as the enchanted moon lowers a thread of light to lead me home.

My imagination twirls and I envision pouring the brilliant liquid moon into a goblet. I drink and the luminescence highlights my innermost shadows. The flood gates open and something mystical occurs.

 “The time with Wild Woman is hard at first. To repair injured instinct, banish naiveté, and over time to learn the deepest aspects of psyche and soul, to hold on to what we have learned, to not turn away, to speak out for what we stand for…all this takes a boundless and mystical endurance. When we come up out of the underworld after one of our undertakings there, we may appear unchanged outwardly, but inwardly we have reclaimed a vast and womanly wildness. On the surface we are still friendly, but beneath the skin, we are most certainly no longer tame.”  ~ Clarissa Pinkola Este.

Answers to questions. Messages of truth. Self-Compassion. Continued healing and growth simultaneously collide.

My dear, let’s go on an inward journey and listen.

Fear is the fuel of a dragon’s fiery breath.

Listen to your body and rest when you can.

Try a little self-forgiveness.

Hold the light in your heart and sip the dew from a leaf.

Respect yourself.

This full Moon is a bottomless healing space.

Let the seeds of self-love grow into confidence.

Seek less materialistic and give more to those in need.

Trust when to say yes and honor when to say no.

Let go of self-debasing and self-judgment.

Rise out of the shark-filled-sea-of your mind.

Remove yourself from piranha-like people who deplete your soul.

Honor the days when you need to stretch your weary on a figurative beach. It’s not lazy but necessary.

Find your groundedness by outstretching each rib and breathe peace into your aching heart.

Bow deeply and let your warrior, take a siesta.

And, always, always remember: you are not alone.

The lessons from the Moon are gradual and steadily help me to find peace in an old sleeve of darkness. I’m learning to stay with all the feelings surfacing and respect my needs.

There is nothing wrong with me. I am wired to feel the sounds of moonbeams humming and to cry and rejoice at the magic.

Each moment shifts with a warm breeze and transposes the what-ifs into two words:

Love and Trust.

This full Moon is kindly letting me swim in the sea of my subconscious and plucking the gravel from my doubts. My supreme exhaustion is to keep me from running away and facing the sharp edges of glass-like filaments laced in fear. It is sparking courage and strengthening my connection with the grace of the Moon.

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Note: Essay originally published on elephant journal as What it feels like to be Sensitive on a Full Moon, August 9th, 2014: http://tinyurl.com/nu6y87r. For more essays written by Carolyn Riker: www.elephantjournal.com/author/carolyn-riker/

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About Carolyn Riker

A creative explorer using the magic of imagination, surfing the sea of understanding and finding bridges to connect it all.
This entry was posted in Captured Moments and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I’d howl at the moon, if I could.

  1. Ulli Stanway says:

    This is pure lunar magic ❤ I love your writing so much, you have the gift to heal this world with your love and words Carolyn ❤ Thank you so much ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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