when the sky gives you magic

Last night I went out in the dark and came upon a ghost moon. It hung shapeless, pale, and inexplicable in the softly-clouded sky. As I stared, trying to think of some sensible reason for its existence, the light gently expanded, then contracted again, as if an Old Woman from Elsewhere was breathing warmth from her star-coloured hearthfire and her peat-rich passions, and the light of it shone through to my winterfalling world.




I went away, came back again, and the ghost moon remained. I guess I should have been frightened. But I am old enough now myself to not be troubled by a Samhain mystery: I've let go of all the ordinary adulthood tales well-meaning people told me so that I would have a heritage of good sense. I've reclaimed magic.

The sky has offered up many odd things in my life - double moons, highly doubtable moons, sunlit storms, misfooted stars going the wrong way, impossible rainbows. They are like waymarkers on the road back into Dreaming. I don't know why we've come so much to emphasis our waking days, our formulas and reasons and names. Perhaps that's what straight-line, landless living does to a people. I hope you look up one night and see a senseless moon or gypsy star, and through it glimpse the beautiful heartland that is the ever-when, just beyond what your reasonable mind likes to imagine.


4 comments:

  1. Such lovely beauty, thank you. And full of mystery. I want to embrace magic too.

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  2. i sometimes think the things we can't explain are more beautiful than the ones we can. and that many of the explanations for things that we do have are very lacking. mystery is more spacious...anyway, explaining doesn't go to the soul of a thing (or to our own souls) the way that wonder does. or love.

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  3. Ohhhh yes! and yes again. I hear you, strong and solid, friend.

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  4. beautiful
    yes, reclaiming magic

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