It is 11:07 pm on the final day of November, 2009. I am sitting in bed, incense wafting in the air around me. A candle burns on the windowsill and the light of the laptop monitor is making my eyelashes small blobs of light in front of my eyes, like it does.

The moon is very nearly full, and I’m trying to breath deeply of that light tonight. Perhaps I’ve inhaled too much of her blessing. I feel as though I will burst with the power inside me, as though I have no way to release that power, no method or mode by which to express the light. But this is common in the dark. It is hard to see the canvas before us, let alone paint upon it. It is hard to hear the music in this vacuum, let alone sing along. It is hard to see the page, let alone write upon it. It is hard to shine when you can’t see.

I feel as though my eyes have been covered. The darkness of the season has been trapping me. I have been caught by the apparent lack of motion. The settling of the sun is an impetus to sleep, to be still. The day is dark early in the afternoon, the lights spring to life to cast away the darkness, but it really only reminds us that the sun is hidden already beyond the horizon.

And that is where I am. Caught thinking time and time again of the things that I can not change immediately. Trapped looking at the past and future, remembering and anticipating, and letting experience slide through me.

Tricky Pixie is playing. “The Mushroom Song.” I’ve got it on loop. It eases my mind, it settles me, it clears me. I can taste the melody on my tongue, rich, savory, a hint of spice, danger. This song reaches inside me and tugs at dark emotions, powerful emotions. Not fear, but courage. It whispers of blessings and connections and the ways of spirit.

I breathe in the light of the moon, taking with it the power of blessing. I exhale the shadow of smallness. I inhale the light to be large and exhale anger at my failures. I inhale the rushing tide and exhale the standing water of my heart. I inhale the knowledge of the servants and exhale my fullness. I inhale power and exhale love. I commune.

Blessed be the ways we walk and the eyes we catch. Blessed be the gentle ones, the quiet ones, and injured ones. Blessed be the damaged and those who heal them. Blessed be family and community, may they be joined one to the next. Blessed be the hungry and those who feed them. Blessed be the unheard, the unvoiced, and the still. Blessed be the eyes that see but do not speak, and the tongue that speaks healing truth.