Posted on my alternate blog site on Aug 10, 2015 … back a few years now before a classic house concert at our place, Zani Place, on Sept 12. Keeping this here now for the record.
I’ve always loved the idea of darkness and light, the coexistence, the emergence and submergence of one from the other, the transition points between. The earliest peoples understood that the power of life lay in the dark phase of any cycle; the transition between the death of the old and the birth of the new… that fallow times are vital to renewal.
I remember reading The Invitation, a piece of wisdom that circulates from time to time… “Come stand in the fire with me and don’t turn back”… its a truth I carry around with me, sings to the soul, so to speak.
I’ve been digging around a lot in the winter mud of late … pulling weeds, unlocking the good earth from a mess of kyke; a lot of black fingernail days; sorting septics and unclogging drainage for excess water to flow; hacking away at overgrowth and pruning tangled trees; the stuff of winter in the lush wetness of the south west.
As ever, the body leads the brain to dig around the darkness; a lot of yank and pull and snot and sweat… releasing dark thoughts, tussling and unknotting negativities, those trolls that reside in dark corners of our souls. A lot of clip and clear and toss and chuck and throw on the pile for the upcoming burn … sorting, shifting the dank dark depths.
So when I ‘m there, bent over battling my own dank demons, and a squirming dweller of the depths slips through my fingers, it throws my thinking to passageways and tunnels and all the good stuff beneath; of hummous and compost and worms and the wending ways of underground water.
But then I find myself in another tug-o-war with some resistant finger of invasive grass, and I’m creeping through tunnels of dark betrayals; of the coal seam mites stealing underground water and bringing salt to surface; grinding my teeth at the silent stealth of the global gluttons of the Trans-Pacific-Pirates.
What can I do? is the question that plaques me. As a student in the nuclear 80s, we protested, we caught the train to Canberra and camped on the lawns of Parliament House. We were defiant and visible. As a resident of the south west in the 90s, we joined the Forest Alliance and supported friends who lived on platforms atop 300 yr old trees. They were defiant and visible. As a “global” citizen in 2015, I sign countless petitions online and make vacuous statements on social media but the sense that its all going in circles around a vacant lot of like-minded frustrated angry and frankly frightened friends, leaves me gasping for air – defiant and sadly invisible – punching the air and pulling at weeds.
So I’ve turned to the moon …
I’ve always been a bit of a moon watcher – I blame that old full moon sage Neil Young for it – I’ve often checked the phases before booking dates for performance events. So it being winter and me scratching around in the depths, and having an unusual performance date to book here at Zani Place, I’ve lately been ruminating on the dark of moon, that deep black starry starry night before the new moon rises.
I read somewhere online, a piece of wisdom that rung true for me, along the lines of attuning to the natural rhythms of ebb and flow in our lives, and in the world around us; using the intrinsic function of the dark times for healing and renewal… when we resist this inward motion in our psyche, then anxiety, stress, and fear are more likely to take hold of our emotions.
Winter brings with it two wondrous warm old friends of humankind – fire and story – both healers with the potential for losing oneself in their depths; both unafraid to associate themselves with dark places.
It seems to me the world is in the dark of the moon phase now, and perhaps the way through … for us simple souls who live at the bottom of the world anyhow …. is to honour the darkness and bring light and warmth and the ballad music of the heathen soul to its hearth. Even the darkest of souls, the deepest mire of muddy tangled weedy mess, the places where fear resides and insanity prevails, hold the worms of goodness, the lighted pathways and channels where the good water flows to the deep soul, the aquifer of life, the food of orchards and nourisher of the earth.
We’re nearly ready to turn the tides, the power of transformation resides in the Dark of the Moon …we’re standing holding space and honouring the symbiosis …come join us by the bonfire in the dark of the Zani moon with the Kill Devil Hills, to sing that deep stillness of the Winter Dark into its forward motion again.
May the light shine, and the lotus blossum, even in the darkest of places ….