Moon Magic

I've decided that whenever I can summon the energy to do so, I'm going to head to my local beach in the dark hours before I go to work, stand at the shore, and let the saltwater heal me.

My beach on Puget Sound is covered with driftwood and pebbles, and faces west. Today I went there at 6:15am, expecting rain but determined to go anyway, and I was rewarded with dry skies.

And the moon.

It was a full moon last night, and the moon was hanging low over the Olympic mountains, playing peekaboo with clouds passing over it. I stood at the edge of the shore, moving away from the killdeer shore birds, who screeched at me in the dark, scolding me when I walked near them.

The sea was gentle today, just the breath-rhythm of the waves - in, out, in, out - until I felt my own breath synching. When the water reaches the pebbles on the beach, the pebbles tumble against each other gently, a sound of stone and sea that soothes.

I stood under the moon, tried to capture it in photos, but my phone failed in the attempt.

Probably for the best that I stopped trying - put away my phone, so I can dip my fingers into the water, so that I can pick up various pebbles and feel their texture between my fingers, so that I can see the moon with my eyes and not through a screen.

In, out. In, out.

Full moons are a time of magic: there are those who practice spells to harness that magic.

My spell is to immerse myself at the edge of the sea, in line with the reflection of the full moon, and breathe. I could feel my heartrate slow, I could feel my shoulders release, and I could feel all of the potential and beauty of the world. If that's not magic, then I don't know what is.

My new ritual is to pick up a stone at the water's edge, and carry it in my pocket all day, a reminder of stone and sea, moon and magic. At work - sitting at my plasticky desk under fluorescent lights, a million demands upon my time, it's a touchstone to remember who I am. Moonlight and stardust, cedars and meadows, mountains and magic. Love and light are in that small stone that I picked up in the darkness.

Tomorrow I'll return the stone, and choose another, refreshing my intentions and giving myself the gift of the sea again.

In, out. In, out.

If I keep doing this, I feel more sure somehow that I will be okay, and that I will have the strength to do what needs to be done... and maybe that's the biggest magic of all.