Blue Moon in Water

It’s sometime in the mid ’80s.  I drive to the foot of a mountain somewhere west of Morrison, Colorado, to meet friends for a Blue Moon Ceremony.  I’ve only had Grandmother Drum a few years and she wants to be there on that mountain top.  People start to trek up the steep path as I gather up my bag of ceremony, a blanket and Grandmother Drum.  I follow along in the late day light, the last in line.

Grandmother Drum was never so heavy.  She is a big Taos drum that I bought at the pueblo from drum maker Red Shirt.  She likes to be in circle with people honoring the Earth and the Sky.  I trudge along, readjust the bag on my shoulder, feel the bite of twisted leather as I grip the drum handle.  Red dust scuffs my shoes as I weave through the underbrush, no longer able to see those ahead of me.

Drought dry leaves crunch beneath my feet.  I stop, change hands, shift the bag to the opposite shoulder.  When I look up I see Scott’s long legs headed back down the mountain, a grin on his handsome face.  He reaches down and takes Grandmother Drum as if she were an illusion.  My bag becomes lighter.  I follow his long stride up and up and up around curves and still I cannot see the others.  Finally the path opens to a flat mesa.

Everyone is settling into a circle as Father Sun bows down to Grandmother Blue Moon filling the eastern horizon beyond the twinkling lights of Denver far below.  Magic flows in on a breeze and an owl calls out blessings.  We smudge.  I pull Rune Stones from my bag.  Each person pulls a stone , returns it to the bag and passes it around after the reading.  Everyone has the same Rune. 

Tonight I will drive down to the lake at moon ise and watch Grandmother Moon splash across the waters and listen for owl and coyote.

What blue moon do you remember?

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About cjprinceauthor

I write. I read. I write and read...I listen to raindrops on begonias, talk to ravens, dance with dragons. I practice Tai Chi in a barn, I sleep with earth stones and tarot cards. I celebrate each day. Join me!
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