01.17.19

“Lunar Eclipse January 2019 is opposite Mercury and square Uranus. This signals unexpected events and news that are likely to cause anxiety and uncertainty about the future. So keeping an open mind and staying calm and patient is key to dealing with this erratic and unpredictable energy. Otherwise, impulsive reactions, rapid mood swing and miscommunication could cause panic and chaos.” (Somewhere on the internet)

As if we aren’t jumpy about the world already, here comes the lunar eclipse of the Wolf Moon this Sunday.  Sarah said there was another earthquake in the East Bay early this morning, with wind and torrential rains pounding the region.  My suggestion to her that maybe this was linked to the weird phenomenon of the lunar eclipse was met with a cryptic note back, “How to make me feel better!”  And, in these times of ‘anxiety and uncertainty’, Mary Oliver, the beloved poet, a guiding star, died today.  The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac finally took her, and she returns back to the star dust from whence she came.  A friend sent me a wonderful link about the upcoming eclipse, foreverconscious.com, and it discusses how this eclipse is the last in a cycle which began in February 2017, and it will bring “endings and a culmination to the lessons we have been working with since early 2017.”  If I could just remember what I’ve been working on…

In the meantime, there has, at last, been a change in the weather.  The sunset off the porch last night looked like it could be the blood moon, but it was a beautiful glimpse of the sun which has been hiding behind clouds for so long.  I had a lovely winter’s walk in light snow this morning, and it’s quite possible we will have several inches covering the ground before the storm passes through.  It does help me feel more relaxed about winter to have it snowing–somehow, I resist my fate a bit less.

One of the nice things about keeping a blog, is that I have a record of what I wrote about in these past months and years, reflecting something which must have felt important to me at the time.  As I scrolled back to February 2017 and the beginning of this eclipse cycle, I’d posted a Wendell Berry poem, and it seems to be one of the lessons I continue to work on, eclipse cycle after eclipse cycle.

What do the tall trees say
To the late havocs in the sky?
They sigh.
The air moves, and they sway.
When the breeze on the hill
Is still, then they stand still.
They wait.
They have no fear. Their fate
Is faith. Birdsong
Is all they’ve wanted, all along.

Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir