I am so out of tune.

The whole world is waxing, growing more yang, full, ripe and bright. As we march forward to the solstice the days stretch infinitely long. As I looked into the summer sky I saw a moon growing fat and fire flies dressing up the lawn with their shimmers. It seems as if the whole world is getting ready for a party, a celebration, and explosion of life.

But I am waning, growing yin, dimmer, diving deeper into myself. I am touching dark places of my heart. The places where the shadows lurk. The places where I am still and silent–where the air is thick and heavy and smells a little like cedar and crushed pine needles.

I have not gone quietly to this place. I have fought this whole waning cycle. I have kicked and screamed and railed against the rain, and the cold and the quiet. I have yearned for connection and have reached out into the darkness pleading for the light and the energy and the bubbling up of joy. I wanted to sing in the sunshine and dance and blossom and expand and I fought the contraction with every ounce of energy I had.

Then, yesterday I got some upsetting news. Its news I don’t want to write about here only to say that it was distressing and stressful and opened up old wounds, wounds I thought I had long ago healed. I found myself reliving abandonment all over again–the feeling of losing my heart, the panic of losing control. I felt vulnerable and weary and alone. And suddenly I embraced the yin for there was nothing I wanted to do but go away and pull the covers over my head, drink chai tea and slip away into the dark of a new moon night. It was as though my soul knew I needed this quiet to deal with what would happen and was preparing me for it all along.  It all suddenly made so much sense.

I am swimming in the yin, letting it wash over me. I am grateful for the silence for it asks nothing of me. I am counting my breaths now, keeping my heart focused here on the now for it is all I have afterall. It is all I can do, just breathe, and I have noticed that my breathing, even in this space, can sound like music.  And I am thankful for the absence of noise, community, busyness and bustle.

The distressing problem will be solved. I am not worried about that. The wound on my heart, the one it opened up–it will heal, I am certain of it. And the seasons, they will turn again. Of that I am sure.

It may be days, or weeks or months but I will expand again. I will be yang and joyful and bright. I will light up the sky like a June moon. But for now I am a waning moon, growing dim and letting the world rest and be still.

5 Responses to “Waning”

  1. GreenishLady Says:

    I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having to deal with hard stuff right now. No matter that you know it will be worked out, it’s still not easy. Blessings to you.

  2. Diane DeArmond Says:

    I am encouraged by your understanding that there are cycles in life that move each of us in directions that we might not consciously choose. I feel supportive of your understanding of the depths of our journey through this human experience, and if you have dreams, they can help you understand the meaning of your experiences.

  3. maggie, dammit Says:

    It sounds wise to not fight it. To let go and go with the flow and somehow hang on in that way. I hope you find your alignment soon, dear girl.

  4. bella Says:

    Oh honey, I’m so sorry.
    This is a difficult and sometimes scary place to be.
    It is hard to feel the waning, to surrender to it, to let things ebb when it feels like all around you is flow, is new life, is lushness.
    Know that I see you here.
    That I AM here.
    Thinking of the conversations we had, about birth, about midwifery of the soul.
    And so I am trusting that you are here and this is not, as you say, a problem to solve, but only your breathe to follow.
    This is all and everything.
    I love you dearly.

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