crystal exploration - black moonstone

It's a simple sort of day, minutes stretching into hours almost lazily, a pause after all the rushing. I'm observing the green that has returned from previous years - mints, lemongrass, honeysuckle, wildflowers that I know will have touches of pink when they come fully into themselves. 

A crow lands on the birdbath, takes some gulps of the fresh water, then hops in, doing a dramatic bath dance so that the water washes over his whole body, flowing into spaces cocooned by feathers. He looks around, assessing the surroundings, then has another go. Wild immersion. Calculated, but also free. 

I'm there with him, melting into feathered space, feeling water droplets scatter, then the wind collect beneath wings, the way we go higher and higher while still being safe. Both flying into mystery and understanding what is known, parting the atmosphere to see. 

And then I'm back standing in a puddle of sunshine, roots from my feet burying into the earth, spreading and deepening somehow as I walk, feathers still tangled in my hair. I know a breeze can help me launch again, anytime really, but for now I put a sprig of mint gently behind my ear and enjoy this space, my own earth nest. 

In The Encyclopedia of Crystals, Judy Hall doesn't mention black moonstone, though there is a moonstone entry. The image in the book for “natural moonstone” looks a lot like this one, but this is sold as black moonstone and has a different look and feel to more traditional moonstone. It contains the moonstone shimmer, has layers of white and clear, some peachy golden brown, definitely darker hues.

The book (and pretty much all google searches) speak about moonstone's connection to intuition, psychic development, lucid dreaming, feminine energy as embodied by the moon and her cycles, the ways change flows into our lives. 

In the crystal world, nearly all black stones / minerals have properties of grounding and protection. Weaving into the spirit of moonstone, I view black moonstone as both an initiator and protector while we lean into intuition, into our innate and always expanding sense of knowing. 

earth day

I have this sense that the more in love people are with the earth, the more in relationship they are with their natural surroundings, the more they'll cherish and protect. Share the data, stimulate the intellect, encourage advocacy, but never to neglect the heart of things, the threads of soul, the pulse. 

I've spent many hours with my children, immersing in fields, creeks, red dirt, wildflowers, muddy and sweaty or bundled up, giggling and observing, cultivating wonder and connection. 

Recently, I took two of them on an adventure to Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It was a place of wonder in my own childhood (though I was years younger than they are now). I felt awe at the vastness and wonder at the mystery that there were still areas untouched and unexplored. 

My second experience there didn't disappoint. I was flooded with that similar awe as I was deeply cocooned into the earth. I saw so many figures in the cave formations. This one made me think of a sacred figure holding an owl.   I wrote a haiku to honor it: wandering to depths / wise ones of stone and feathers / ancient and awake

reiki offering

In person reiki training can be quite the costly undertaking, in the hundreds. Alternatively, many online approaches are quite detached and independent with no teacher / student interaction. This is my offering: a way to connect face-to-face, from your own home, while still honoring finances in these tricky times. I hope you'll join me! xoxo.  

hello to you and to grief

I've written blogs before - daily life happenings, homeschooling, touches of spirituality. Where do I start with this one? As always, I suppose the answer is: with where I'm at.

In a season full of returning and lasting light, fresh and wild growth, hope in so many forms and textures, all of which I'm soaking into my skin and bones, there's also an abundant amount of grief nestling into the shadows. It's a fierce current.

My 63 year old dad is in his final months of life. He was still working a tough, physical job back in August. By the end of September, he had received a devastating diagnosis and prognosis, a surprise. A recent specialist appointment moved up the timeline. 

It's complex terrain. One of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, wrote a poem called "In Blackwater Woods" that always digs deeply into my heart (and maybe shreds it before mending it). It ends with the lines, "To live in this world / you must be able / to do three things: / to love what is mortal; / to hold it / against your bones knowing / your own life depends on it; / and, when the time comes to let it / go, / to let it go."

This weekend, I wrote this: