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?


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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