Tuesday, March 18, 2025

Meditations Beneath a Blood Moon



I had set my clock for 1:45 AM, taking up residence on the couch so as not to awaken my Husband when the alarm went off. As excited as I was, my sleep had been fitful. These celestial events don’t come around often. But I knew if I didn’t get a little slumber in before the big event, I’d be sorry the next day. 


The most difficult part of the evening would be extricating myself from the couch when my iPad alarm went off. My Lo-Cats, Shiloh and Willow, were sleeping on my feet. That’s a major accomplishment for all three of us. I have been working hard with these two former ferals for a couple of years to help them domesticate me. They didn’t cede any ground and I was only able to rise from the couch under feline protest.

I decided I’d try to keep watch from the deck just outside our sliding glass door in the back. I took a candle with me to signal to my psyche that I was there to meditate, reflect and pray. I would take up residence in a nook behind one of my plant shelves where I hoped that the motion sensor would not pick up my presence after awhile and leave me in darkness to ponder the heavens. It worked but only for awhile.


My candle with its three wicks flickered. Under the blackening skies, the darkness of the world seems far away in this backyard sanctum, the statue from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil at the edge of the deck where I sit. As I begin to relax, I am feeling  safe in this place we have worked so hard to make home.   


As the edge of the moon starts to disappear into darkness, I begin to pray:

O G-d, source, ground and destination of all being. Be with us in this time of cataclysmic change. As the brightness of Sister Moon is covered by an interposing of the Good Earth in front of Brother Sun, we, too, feel the light subsiding from our world.

We know this enshrouding darkness is not forever. But it is frightening. We don’t know what to expect, who will be harmed, what will die without hope of resurrection. We also know that darkness is not to be abhorred, that it is necessary for a wholeness in creation. We know that without darkness light makes no sense. And yet, like ancient peoples, we see this eclipse as a time of chaos and danger. And we tremble.

Be our light in the darkness, Holy One. Help us to remember that darkness is not darkness to you, the light and the dark are alike.

As I pray a falling star blazes out across the western horizon.

I continue….

 


Sister Moon, you have nearly disappeared. Your brightness now an orange brown dullness. The eclipse is nearing completion. Soon your light will once again peek from behind the interposing Mother Earth. Can we hold our breath that long? Can we wait in darkness and silence trusting in your return ? Can we trust that our lives together will regain a sanity that tonight seems so far removed from us?

 





Hoping for a better view, go out to my front yard just inside the green wall of the Jungle sheltered from the brightness of street lights. As I crane my neck to see the now fully eclipsed moon, the smell of orange blossoms surrounds me, perfuming the cool night air. I stand barefoot in my Jungle in this place where I offer my prayers each morning, my stone Buddha looking on in silence, where I turn clockwise, reiki charged hands moving clockwise to point in every direction. Prayers for the sick and suffering emanate daily from this plod of Earth’s surface I have been lent for my lifetime to love.

 




Somehow it feels safe this night even as Sister Moon is now completely obscured, smothered by the interposition of this beautiful blue and green planet, our island home. Other than the occasional car on the nearby expressway, it is still. The birds that will soon sing the sun up are still sleeping. They neither toil nor spin. And they do not fear a darkened moon. They trust their Creator. Can we do likewise?

I come back into the house to see if the local television news is providing a better view of the eclipse than my little cell phone can capture. The first channel to appear is the local PBS station. Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell are talking about the power of myth. Have we human animals who became fully human through our ability to see life through the lens of myth lost our desire to claim our souls? Will we lose our humanity in the process if not our planet? And will there be a PBS to remind us of what we have lost?


Moyer and Campbell are talking about the hero who must die to be reborn. Is this where we are this night? Must the world as we know it collapse and die before it can be reborn, not as a reanimation of the old world which no longer works, but as something new, something that hopefully will retain the best of the old? Campbell reminds us, without death there can be no rebirth.




This seems so risky, so dangerous. What if the chaos does not subside but only spreads to encompass everything? What if the darkness of the eclipse does not end? Surely I am not the first human being to wonder if the world was ending even as rebirth seems so far away.


 The eclipse is now total.



And then, on the far rim of the darkened moon, a tiny hint of white appears. The light is returning to the world, a process that will take another hour and a half to be completed. It will be a long night of waiting and watching. But the light is coming. What will be illuminated on the other side of eclipse - lunar, societal, spiritual?

The sliver of white is now growing. I feel my heart lift. Maybe things will be OK. It will be a long wait. But I sense that the current suffering may just be the beginning. Even so, there is hope for what lies on the other side of this sea of anxiety this night.

With the rebirthing process underway, my anxieties now spoken, my prayers said, my awe and respect to the natural world paid, it is time to return to bed. There will be battles to fight tomorrow. But for this night, we have come through the cataclysm.


As I head to bed, I find myself saying familiar words from the Evening Prayer service from our Book of Common Prayer:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.

 


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 Harry Scott Coverston

 Orlando, Florida

  frharry@cfl.rr.com

 hcoverston.orlando@gmail.com

   If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.

   Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi

 For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d?  - Micah 6:8, Hebrew Scriptures

 Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)

      © Harry Coverston, 2025

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