Friday, January 01, 2010

33 The dragon in the blue moon – Finsbury Park

Thursday December31, 2009:

I’m feeling frustrated. My arrangements for New Year’s Eve have been sabotaged by adverse weather conditions in the West. My plan to be amongst trees as the calendar year rolls into 2010 is no more. I feel caged and confined. I long to stride the hills, to step carefully through the woods, to dance along the cliff tops, to be anywhere but here, confined by walls, fences and people. But the weather has decided that I’m not going to be set free this night now and I’m growling!

But it is a blue moon! My companion and I sit drinking tea and discussing what we will do to work with it. Even more significantly, it is also a partial Luna eclipse; a moment in time when the earth gets in the way of the sun as the moon passes and thus is obscured. On this occasion the earth’s shadow will fall across its most southerly edge

In the past, people have feared eclipses; in ancient Mesopotamia they used to think the great dragon Tiamat was eating the moon. We talk of how we can use this to do a working to challenge homophobia across the world. We think about the places where homosexuality is punishable by death. We think also of the internalized homophobia that blights LGBT people’s lives too.

Homophobia is often fuelled by fundamentalist interpretations of religions. When partnered with fear of difference, the other, the strange, it is often lethal.

We think about what we could do to change this. We need to lead people from fear and loathing, to compassion and tolerance and eventually to acceptance, respect and honoring. We decide to work from the place of anger into the place of noticing and getting used to difference and other, as represented by the partial Luna eclipse.

It is surprisingly quiet out in the garden. It’s not as cold as my companion feared. She tells me that the moon is partially obscured by thin cloud but that the cloud is moving and from time to time the moon beams down upon us from the east above the trees.

We enter the temple part of my garden, the area guarded by the eagle of the East, the dove of the South, the duck of the West and the owl of the North. All are invited to join our working. We settle to begin our work.

Post menopausal women are great growlers. My companion who has a deep rich chocolaty contralto voice growls most marvelously. I am encouraged by her excellent example to connect with the trapped frustration I feel and to begin to growl too. My throat shakes and I grumble deep in my chest. I snarl and scowl, snap my lips and grind my teeth. I grimace hideously, feeling my skin stretching across the fine bones of my face. It feels good so I do it some more.

I prance from foot to foot, like prowling on the spot. I stamp my feet. My hands claw-like, pawing the air malevolently as I begin to enjoy the truly nasty noises I am making.

My great wings spread out over the spinning land below. I wheel across the land as it spins beneath me. I can see my shadow darkening the earth for the moon is shining brightly behind me. I know I look scary and I like that!

Their eyes are white with fear. I swoop down and land upon their chests, one by one. I drink from their hearts. I drink up all their fear and loathing. I feast until I am filled by their fear and loathing. I roar with anger and my roar shakes the earth.

And as I suck out all their hatred from their hearts, I breathe my hot breath into the space left behind. I warm their hearts, Breathing and breathing until I am breathless and can roar no more.

When I am done, I spread my great wings and fly up towards the silver disk that is the moon sailing through the dark sky above me. I fly with the moon as she moves, my great dark body shadowing part of her southern face. We sail together towards the west.

Down below, the people stair up. They see the moon looking different and because their hearts are empty of fear and loathing, they love her because of her difference. Now, they realise is the time to celebrate her when she has an unusual face.

I lie with the moon like a lover. I am sated. My great body relaxes and I sleep, my heavy head resting on the roundness of her.

I know what I have done and I am satisfied. In breathing the hot fiery breath into their hearts, I have breathed in love to replace the fear and loathing that I licked out. So if they accept and learn to love the moon with this unusual face, can they come to accept those who live amongst them who are different, are strange, and are other?

My companion begins to sing to the moon. I join in. We croon along gently, like singing a lullaby. Soon we find words of comfort to sing, words of endurance, of gathering strength and of celebration.

The moon shines down, her lower right side shadowed slightly at the edge. I imagine her imperfect face and I love her for that difference. I think about the other moon gazers, watching her from across Europe and Africa and hope they are loving her beauty in her difference too.

Our work is done. We bow to the moon and thank the northern owl, the Western duck, the southern dove and eastern eagle. We thank too, the great dragon sleeping on the breast of the moon. Soon she will slip away into the dark night again to continue her work of feasting on fear and loathing and leaving behind love.


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