From the beginning of June and all through the rest of summer I miss the moon. It’s so low on the horizon that I never get to see it in these hot, bright months. For this night owl who thrives in twilight and quiet, the moon is a reliable and steady companion. An antidote to the bustle and split attentions of the day. I rely on its presence as my calendar of choice, its shifting position across the sky and ever-turning phases bringing comfort and balance to my body and mind. For something so far away from the earth, I find it grounding.
In tarot symbolism, the moon is mythical and mysterious. A card of complexity where not everything is as it seems. Illusions, intuition and the subconscious meet in soft milky swirls, creating currents and undertows leaving you wondering what’s real.
It’s a card which very much challenges my need for routine and as little change as possible. The moon is a lesson in surrender to the things that I cannot control. It’s a trip into deeper realms where the subconscious rules. Indistinguishable answers lead to yet more questions, ultimately resulting in having to be okay with not having any answers at all. All the while her silver features benevolently smile in the face of my desire for certainty.
The darker side to the moon card is deception and manipulation, of others or ourselves. In the context of this journal entry, I see it in relation to self-deception and hiding my true unfiltered autistic self from a world that expects neurotypical conformity. I long to not have to do this. The moon card is strangely comforting in seeing that and yet not judging me for doing so.
In the same vein, the moon card symbolises the unknown shadow parts of ourselves trying to see the light of day. Which reminds me of a chapter in Mother Night: Myths, Stories, and Teachings for Learning to See in the Dark1 by Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes in which we’re invited to look at the shadow within ourselves. The motif used in Estes’ audio book is the umbra, but it feels akin to the moon card in tarot.
Umbra is a fully shaded inner region of the shadow that’s cast by an opaque object, like us, we’re opaque objects in one sense. And the umbra is the very centre of the shadow that we cast. It is the most intense and the most undiluted part of the shadow, in other words, the least well-known often or the least accessible at least by the ego. In order to know that centre of the shadow, one has to use a different set of lenses with regard to standing between the two worlds and moving away from the collective culture that literally gives you glasses with images painted on them that may or may not be accurate. And moving instead into the realm of the soul that sees, feels, senses, and often La Que Sabe knows what’s what, how to go next, what the next steps are, how to see things, how to read people and so on. So the umbra in astronomy is the darkest central part of say a sun spot for instance, and it is a literary allusion, a poetic, lyrical way of speaking about whatever is dark. Whatever is dark has a sense of opaqueness to it at its most meaningful, that’s so interesting, and you can’t see it unless you use a telescope[...]
There’s never a time when I don’t feel enriched by Estes’ words.
In many ways the moon card reminds me of therapy, dipping below the surface to see more deeply. For many years I needed someone to help me do this as I was in danger of taking my own life away. But now on a more gentle path, I see this card as an opportunity for kind-hearted introspection. It’s a chance to let it tug you at the sleeve, to abandon the rational and get to know the wilder, unseen parts that might be longing to be acknowledged and freed.
Back in the physical world, tonight is August’s new moon and I’m taking comfort from the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. For now though, I know it’s there and it’s slowly making its way up again, when the night will look whole once more. The earth’s seasonal tilt will come soon enough, bringing it back to northern skies.
I’d love to hear from you. Do you miss certain parts of nature with the changing seasons? Do you notice the moon physically or symbolically?
Session 2, Chapter 1, The umbra—the dark centre of the shadow
This is so interesting. I like the idea of knowing the moon is there even if you can’t see it. I always mean to mark each full moon, to know it’s coming, maybe even to swim beneath one, but I haven’t made it happen yet….
I can relate to this. During the hot Summer months I miss the mountains so much, they are hidden behind muggy air and if I'm lucky I see them as a silouette on the horizon, otherwise nothing at all and they are so close! But the heat mist is just too much. While, in colder weather, I can see them very clearly in details and they feel closer than they actually are.