Sister Moon

Sister Moon

This is the image of a woman looking at the waning moon and recognizing her own connection with the natural flow of life and its value.

It could be suitable for anyone looking behind the apparent reality of the world in search of deeper meaning.

50 cm x 100 cm

Sister Moon

The night was dark and soft, holding the world like some precious jewel wrapped in black velvet cloth.

It was two and a half weeks now since the first sliver of the new moon had appeared in the western sky just before sundown, and the woman had watched the silver light grow each night as it shone higher and fuller in the heavens. Now the fullness had passed and the moon, rising later and later each night was more difficult to see as it retreated slowly back into the darkness, gradually losing its shape.

For several nights now the woman had not been able to see the moon as it had risen later than her usual bedtime, but tonight she felt an urgent need to witness the waning light. There was something compelling and mysterious about the moonlight at this point of the cycle. A kind of shyness that waited until the world was asleep before sharing itself. A light that was dwindling externally, whilst embracing more fully the darkness.

It was about three o' clock in the morning as the woman stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her. Pulling the long coat closer about herself, she took the path that led to a spinney of beach trees on a mound behind the house. It was a place she knew well and loved. A place of tranquility and silence, and there was no fear in her step as she followed the well-known track.

The night was dark, the sky partially overcast with great billowing clouds, only a few stars visible in the breaks between them. Once in amongst the trees the woman sat down on an old stump to wait. She often came here to sit when in need of quiet and the space to think. Each tree in the little group was familiar to her. The shape of each trunk, the twist of each branch. Now, listening to the gentle sound that leaves make when stirred by the wind, she closed her eyes and breathed in, feeling a sense of deep connection with nature and the night.

She was, she knew approaching a time in her life when her own outer radiance was waning, and something inside felt drawn to share this awareness with the moon. Without really understanding how or why, she knew that some eternal rhythm was flowing through them both, and she needed to make a direct contact with it.

When she opened her eyes again the clouds had parted and she found herself looking straight into the shining sickle shape of the waning moon. This however was not the tender crescent light that appears so briefly whilst the sun still guards the horizon. Nor the full globe whose radiance is dispersed throughout the night. No this was a light that had grown and shone and was now withdrawing inwardly, exploring the darkness in those intimate hours of solitude shared only by those who leave the usual world to seek beyond.

There was something very special about this phase in the lunar passage that so few get to know. A vitality that burns for its own sake, potent with the experience of its own journey.

The woman stood with her head lifted up towards the shining light and felt its power fill her being. Her own heart responded with a sense of recognition and belonging, in the knowledge that she too was part of a greater journey that waxed and waned through the cycles of eternity.

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