Esbat: Wolf Moon Celebration

The sulphur of the freshly-lit match and the jasmine incense’s smoulder lingered together, their smoke twisting and caressing one another. 

Though the moon had hung in its full, luminescent glory — belly bulging under the weight of its own light — clouds shielded her from view. According to sources, her full effect had been felt since four that afternoon. It was not until eleven that evening that anyone in the house — the jasmine, the matches, or I — made any mention of it. 

Doors shut, white candle lit, a floral teacup full of water to anoint and bless each fluid movement of hips, shoulders, and knuckles against the floor. Rehearsed chants and forced rhymes swept off the bow of my tongue as I inhaled, exhaled; in through flared nostrils, out through pursed lips.

For the first time, I had thought of something to say. I had prepared, earlier that afternoon, exactly what it was I was thankful for. As the illuminated belly of the sly Wolf Moon as my witness, that evening was an exercise in gratitude: Appreciation for my family, for their health, and for my able body. 

Familiar with the sun salutations of morning routines in meditative body moulding, I practiced the ebb and flow of a moon incantation. Familiar poses were bookended by foreign ones. A combination of the evening’s red wine, Florence Welch’s low crooning, and the vibrations penetrating my bedroom walls lulled the room into a new role. 

The four walls were no longer a childhood bedroom of a rustic lodge, but a cosmic container of possibility. Alone with my music, the solitude broken only by the flickering flame of the candle, I was brought closer to the vibration. 

Like the children of Narnia, discovering the cupboard as a vessel to transport them between one world and the next, the Wolf Moon’s presence, coquettishly hidden behind the murky clouds, transformed a bedroom into a temple of fluid communion. 

January's Wolf Moon was my second full moon celebration, also known as an esbat. Has the phase of the moon ever intrigued or affected you? Have you ever paid special attention to the full moon?

Belatedly download the Aquarius January desktop calendar, below:

Lastly, let us know if you have any plans for February's full moon, which will be featured on a calendar, posted here soon!

January Photography Challenge: Textures

We spent three weeks on our friends’ farm over Christmas. We piled firewood into pot bellies. We hauled water from the house to the barn when the pipes had frozen in -40 temperatures. We collected fresh, frost-bitten eggs from chicken coops. We test drove our dream, the life and home we want to be living in a few years from now. We dove in to a three week adventure and came out the other side, humbled by the animals who were put in our charge. We were given affirmation that yes, this was the space we belonged in, the realm in which we would thrive. 

And we discovered the truly intricate beauty of their home. All around us, we were discovering textures. I was surrounded by rough edges, smooth surfaces, worn and weathered walls. With a zoom lens in my hands and my inner eye open to the possibilities, I found them leaping out at me. Pick me, the cracked stone and cement of the barn would call out. Choose me next, cheered the wooden beams in the hay loft. And don’t forget us, said the home made studio doors. 

I wrote on my blog recently about the importance of textures in photography, and our lives: Texture gives our world, that which we see and watch lustfully, depth. Chasms exist because we see the jagged rocks ripping into each other. The walls built up around us are 10 feet away or 10 inches. Our doors tell us stories of how many smiles we’ve carried across that threshold. Textures are fascinating and ceaseless, and yet we often walk right past them. 

Instead of walking past, let us all regroup. January's Photography Challenge is to scour our lives in order to find and capture the textures surrounding us. What rough edges are you ignoring on your walk home from school? Which drops of rain against the windshield of your car are you casting aside for a clearer view? Pause. Look around. Pick up your point-and-shoot, your iPhone, your DSLR, and share.

Participate in this month's photo challenge by tagging your photos with #northernatlas on Tumblr and Instagram, and share the world of textures around you.

2014, Carousel

I was born into the Year of the Horse twenty-four years ago. Since then I have been turning through life, so young and confused and never brave. I have been afraid to be noticed in everyday life, to be observed and scrutinized. I have been suspicious of the sound of laughter more than I have been calmed by it. I have averted my eyes so much that I'm sure my eyelids fall down naturally at the sides, foreseeing a shame that could come at any time. I have kept my hands to myself. I am familiar with the linings of pockets and raised shoulders in hoods.

The horse has come around again on the carousel and I am no longer a child. It is no longer possible to live a life of childishness. This year will be mine. It is a chance to mount a new horse, to outfit myself with a new strength and to borrow confidence from others I know until my own comes rushing over the prairies. I want to be made of the spirits of wild horses. I want the bravest heart that feels every emotion and has a love for every colour. I am so tired of greys.

I want to be an explorer of this world I am in. I want to find the mythology in the modern, see beauty in blocks of weathered concrete and hear conversations in the leaves. I want to write them down. I want to take photographs. I want this to be a record of celebration. "Look," I'll say someday soon, "look how I tried, failed, tried again. This is how I became myself."

This is 2014. The Year of the Horse returns and offers me another chance at rebirth. Under the snow there is a mane of golden wheat. I dream it and I ride.

Welcome, explorers. I hope each of you remembers the wild beauty of your hearts and that you release it. I hope you follow it wherever it leads you, and I hope you'll share that journey with me. Thank you for joining me on mine.

2014

2014. It’s finally here. According the the Chinese zodiac, this is the Year of the Wood Horse. 

The horse, in Chinese astrology, is the pinnacle of freedom. Its grace and movement embodies adventure. The wood horse’s respect, much like our equine partners, must be earned. This year isn’t so much about what you want to do, or the plans you make, it’s the follow-through; the actions, which we all know have the capacity to speak louder than words.

I used to be against resolutions. I used to judge those who picked and pruned their habits and routines, in hope of a happier tomorrow. Last year, on the brink of 2013, I chose to make monthly resolutions. This was a fun project and it kept me caring about the passage of time, the phases of the moon, and the swift surrender of “I tried” to the valiant torch of “I can try again.” 

This year, I am doing something new. I am choosing my intentions, my mantras. I am placing a high-level approach, to be dissected with every meditation, prayer, and peak into the future. I am waltzing into 2014 with a word: Bravery.

If you’ve ever dated me, you’ll know that one of the things I have always wanted to do, since childhood, was be brave. This sentiment would often trip off the tongue as I opened up my hard casing and let certain people have a look at what was inside. Despite their source, I had no idea what it meant. I didn’t know how to be brave. That wasn’t something I had taken a class on in university. It was just a feeling. A suspicion that a life of cowardice would lead to heartache, disappointment, and resentment. By finding the opposite of that, I would find the antithesis of my fears: love, acclaim, appreciation. I would often speak these words to the people I thought would guide me from nooks of despair into endless fields of joy. 

Not everything goes according to plan. 

By now, I know no good will come of clutching onto coattails or hoping to find good fortune on the backs of others. When I think of bravery, I think of adventure: anew career, a wedding, and unforeseen opportunities. I think of proof: proving to myself, to my family, to my followers, that I wake up each morning thankful for the chance for my heart to race and my lungs to breathe deep the scent of the unknown. No longer do I face the abyss with nervous, fidgeting fingers. This is the year for bravery, this is the year to prove to myself what I can do.

May the Wood Horse bring you all your sense of freedom, and some adventure in one shape or another. For those of you who are on the hunt for a picturesque way to map out your upcoming year, click on the link for a free desktop calendar for January!