My mind is always chattering. I practice daily with devotion, but the older I get, the more I seem to lapse, to forget what I know, or knew, or think I know.
Devoted to The Divine Feminine, I am grounded and satisfied when I can do something that honors the Goddess. Recently, Venus directed me to a consignment shop in Bend, Oregon where I discovered a lovely, framed copy of the archetypal Aphrodite rising from the sea. I hung this picture on an east wall in my room so that I may comfortably gaze on it while lying in bed. My embodiment of The Divine Feminine approved on her first visit to the room, and I realized that of course I had found it and put it there to honor and comfort her.
I have been taking Tango lessons for much the same reason. To serve The Divine Feminine, the masculine must be ever striving. Complacency is death. The masculine must be fearlessly willing to open to fathomless feminine depths, and dancing to me has always been a feminine expression that has intimidated me. I don’t quite move with the grace and liquidity of Fred Astaire, and so dancing has always been beyond me, or so it has seemed. But when a new acquaintance in my new town suggested I take Tango lessons “like everyone else,” I signed up. I didn’t go for group lessons, but for hour-long, private lessons with a marvelous Argentine teacher who is 65 years old.
My Tango teacher is a beautiful and powerful 65! In her movements and direction she reminds me of my partner-woman whom I adore and serve. The lessons can be exhausting, and my teacher can be stern and even harsh—but only when I need her to be. The Tango is something like a walking meditation, and it is also a perfect physical and spiritual ritual of worshipping The Divine Feminine. When I dance with my teacher, I also dance with the woman who masters my soul, and I more gracefully acknowledge The Divine Feminine in every woman I see. These are beautiful, humbling sightings when I am capable of looking.
Of course, I am not always able, and I am often far less capable than I want to be. I neither see nor listen as I know I should. But this is why I am so in love with the Full Moon. Rising into the night sky, each Full Moon to me transmits Venus radiance and my personal Goddess energy. Sometimes I feel in moonlight as if I am floating in a sea of glorious feminine essences. It is difficult to describe this sensation. It is satisfaction, surrender, sensuality, service, and sexual intensity all at once. It is being completely and joyfully alive. In the incredible light of the Full Moon, and in the masterful gaze of the one you serve and love, you must be focused. Your truth cannot hide.
Here is a poem of mine that (I hope) expresses this revelation.
Dawn Is a Pretty Time
Dawn is a pretty time to feel you near
After so many seductive phantoms
Nodded all night, saying come
Away with us, for-
Get your morning star and moon, your
Eden with her green, calm core.
Rant with us! Strap yourself to illusions! Be
Hysterical and poisonous, like us! Then I see you
And just like that I stop,
Refocusing in a clear place,
Delighting in your company.
That’s enough. It’s all I need to know, to be.
In the Celtic tradition, this Full Moon is the Ivy Moon. Samhain is coming, and the Ivy Moon rises at the end of the harvest, the end of things as we’ve known them for a time. Ivy is an enduring plant, often living well after its host has died. It entwines and binds together, and it creates an effective barrier against that which you may want to keep out. This is why ancient magicians and physicians used ivy for healing and protection. They also employed it to promote cooperation and to bring and keep lovers together.
In this Full Moon, worship The Divine Feminine by lying outside in its full light, alone or with the one you love, and drape some strands of ivy over you. Strive to eliminate negative thoughts, and set intentions for working together, for enduring love.