Tonight I came to the end of my driveway and the road into town led straight to a beautiful red moon. I was so entranced I turned right instead of left as I had planned. It was like I wanted to keep driving until I drove straight into that amazing light. I wanted to be sitting in front of a campfire, sleeping in a sleeping bag, slapping at mosquitoes if that would allow me to be even more “one” with that moon.
In many mythologies the moon is female, a lunar creature who looks out across the world with her cool, white smile. She is the energy of stillness, protection, comfort. In one of my stories the moon speaks to a young girl who has been enclosed and imprisoned into an adobe hut by an evil priest. We are in a place like Chaco Canyon in the 1300’s. When I was writing that story, I felt like that girl. It seems like there is a part of us that is forever trapped or buried into earth and only magic and a yellow moon can bring us out of our prison.
Here is a cut from that story. By the way, the narrator is a tiny lizard who sees and speaks. His name is Sulee. Our girl’s name is Lela.
Excerpt from Sulee, A Lizards Tale (unpublished)
Later, Lela stayed alone on the plaza. The villagers had lingered until late, whispering and crying, offering their own gifts to the fire—small bound sticks of sage and corn meal, their prayers and suffering. They ignored Lela as if she were already enclosed in her tomb atop the mesa. Finally, the villagers were gone and even her mother had, at last, left her side to seek her sleeping mat. Lela was alone, really alone, except for one small lizard watching nearby.
The clouds rolled away into the night and revealed the full white face of the Moon herself. My girl gazed and gazed at the wide white face, noting every line, every mark and blemish of this older than old woman who had watched her little people scurry on the desert since the beginning of time. The Moon knows my fear, thought Lela. Her heart, too, is heavy with the wickedness of this priest.
Desperate now to ease her worry, I sent my thoughts like balm to her mind. Fear not, my girl. Fear not. All will be well. I stayed to keep this painful vigil with my girl, sitting at her side never moving, hardly blinking but keeping my eyes closed so they would be wide open to the seeing. I heard her questions. And I heard her prayers.
Oh great Mother, hear your daughter for she is lost. How wide is your power great Mother? Is it wide enough to protect me, a daughter so alone? Is it wide enough to strike the unholy one from the earth’s body? How wide Mother Moon?
Never mind my shock, or my pleasure, when the Moon generously answered my girl. There were no audible sounds spoken, but the words reached my ears nevertheless—and Lela’s.
“Not wide enough, Lela,” the Moon spoke honestly.
Lela heard and the words made her want to weep. She opened her arms to better receive such soft messages.
“Only wide enough,” said the Moon, “to come and join you in your wait, to guide you, to tell you what is real and what is false.”
And then the Moon told Lela of all that was to come and how she should act. I am ashamed to admit that I cannot report what those words held. So powerful was the woman that she put me into a trance near Lela’s toes so that I could not be a part of this private conversation. I was vaguely aware and could hear only Lela’s thoughts.
Lela asked no questions but let the Moon’s voice travel through her body until it felt as if an unseen hand had woven a shawl of white moon glow and draped it around her head and shoulders. She heard songs and stories she’d never heard before. Her head ached with the strain of listening and wanting to hear and remember every melody, every vibration and tone. When at last the first light of the coming dawn began to ease the Moon into her rest, she spoke of her son, the Moon Boy. I was sparked back into awareness and heard only this part of the Moon’s message.
“You must watch for him, Lela.” Her voice weakened. “He will come to you by my light and no other. He will help you. Do exactly as he says.”
My own ears perked up at this new information. The Moon Boy? Who is this? I forced myself out of trance and back into alertness but the Moon—and her lovely voice—were gone and Lela was asleep near the last, warm embers of the fire.
One day I will get back to this lovely story and complete it. In the meantime, garden is busy, grandkids were great in Michigan–and Monday I start teaching at Northwest Technical College in Bemidji. So many changes and movements in the world. If you would like to get my weekly (mostly) posts just subscribe below and do share with others.