The bloody fucking blue full moon from hell has peaked and is now on the wane. Thank god! It was a strenuous moon that brought many helpful insights and incredibly healing dreams. I journeyed back to a painful era of personal history and connected with an old friend I thought I had lost forever. Then I read this, by one of my favorite astrologers:
Was your blue moon blue? The Moon was conjunct Chiron aka as "The Wounded Healer". Old wounds and a confrontation with your own wounded self may have been front and center these last few days, but remember that facing these parts of yourself with love and compassion can bring healing, even if it feels hard and painful at the time. Hang in there folks you are not alone....
Thanks Fern! I've been looking at my old wounds all summer, actually all year, but something did indeed peak in the last few days.
I am comforted when I discover that I've been dancing in alignment with the larger energies, almost always. I love blaming that old devil moon anytime I'm flopping around. And I am a healer, hence must engage almost constantly, or so it seems, in self healing. It is strenuous but I don't mean to complain.
I've been thinking about something the Sufi acupuncturist said this past week. I was talking to him about how the Holocaust is a part of me, has always been with me. I said, "I can't explain why. My parents subjected my siblings to the same awful photographs of the emaciated bodies stacked up in piles, they told my sisters and brothers about the camps and Hitler, too, just as they told me. But, although my sisters and brother remember and honor that terrible era, it isn't in them, with them, as it is for me."
He said, "But they aren't healers."
A classic example of shamanic healing has to do with taking on the illness of others, then battling the soul of the illness as one would a "real" enemy, eventually (one hopes) defeating that enemy. One-on-one it might be possible, but what is with me taking on these huge spirals of wounded energy?
I remember my shamanic work on the Civil War battlefields. I tried so hard to do good there, but the energy of that war is potent to this day and anyway, Reya vs. the Civil War was never a fair contest. It was Bambi Meets Godzilla.
I'm still drawn to the battlefields, but I avoid them. I learned my lesson. Now I'm taking on the task of rising from the ashes of the Holocaust. I want to honor, to remember, but I would prefer to spend my remaining days in this body less involved with this slowly unwinding horror. The walk through the museum earlier this summer, the tattoo, was part of that effort. It will be ongoing for awhile, I think.
I wonder if I'll be able to do it. Ya think?
Happy Sunday. Shalom.