Disseminating Moon

I'm one with the Goddess
and open to Her Wisdom."

20th Day of the 11th Lunar Cycle
Ruled by Demeter
Lunar Tree Cycle of Gort/Ivy
17th Day of the Celtic Tree
Month of Gort/Ivy
Moon Phase: Disseminating - 1:16AM EDST
Moon sets: 11:49AM EDST
Moon rises: 9:23PM EDST
Moon in the Mutable Air Sign
of Gemini
Rhiannon's Cycle of the Moon
Lunar Meditation: The freedom of
letting go.
Sun in Libra
Sunrise: 7:31AM EDST
Sunset: 6:40PM EDST
Solar Question for the Day: "Do you
practice hospitality of spirit?"
Lughnasadh (Gwyl Awst) Quarter
of the Year
October 16th, 2011

Disseminating Moon - During this phase the moon's age is 17.5 to 21 days old. The moon rises mid-evening and sets mid-morning. The time of the souls (3AM) would be the midpoint here. Banishing work starts now. Working should focus upon addiction, decisions, divorce, emotions and stress and protection.  The disseminating moon is the waning full moon getting visibly smaller. She is visible from the time she rises almost until she sets. As we go into the darkening phase of the disseminating moon, we get the FRUIT of the moon plant's life cycle - the fruits of wisdom and experience. For those who were born during this moon phase they feel their life must have meaning, purpose. They enjoy sharing their ideas with others.

Sun Day - the Day of Intent, Creation and Renewal .... there are minor magickal energies today for doing rites/spells to relieve stress.

Here are some lovely offerings from Patricia Monaghan's book Seasons of the Witch - a lovely collection of poetry and songs to the Goddess. 

Altar of the West

A cobalt bowl

brimming with water

A necklace of sequins

or mermaid scales

A velvet pouch

heavy with coins

A black mirror

framed with shell

Amber perfumed oil

redolent of spices

A brass trident

a golden salter

Two silver chalices

a crystal vial of tears

Harvesting:

      Raw wind chafes my face, stings my reddening cheeks. Earth warms roots while air brittles yellowing leaves. Light diminishes.... I gather and gather and gather.

     Can I name a single time as harvest? Spring brings seedling lettuce, early chives, wild morels. Early summer, luxuriance of strawberries, authority of sorrel, the green snap of peas. High summer, and the trickle swells to a torrent that cascades as fall approaches and everything ripens all at once. Flying seeds cloud the air.  The roadsides are lush with seedheads. Everywhere promises, promises.

     I fall behind. Inevitably. Beans split open to seed themselves. In leafy shadow, squashes swell huge and green. Even crows and raccoons cannot steal all the tomatoes. In the crowded garden, I gather and gather.

      In a delirium of plenty, boundaries disappear. Richness, richness: velvet colors, taste of smoke, sounds soft as alderblow.  Effortless work. The season of the heart. Death everywhere, feeding life. Life everywhere.

     I stand for a moment, head bent back, listening to the last call of the geese as they skein southwards. Near me, a squirrel falls silent. Then I lift my rake, the squirrel chatters, and gathering begins again.

     Abundance and choice. Abundance is choice. The cellar is full. Life is full. There is no need for more.

      Then a row of overlooked of peppers calls out. A stand of rose hips. A last flush of strawberries, tiny, deeply sweet.

      When the white day comes when all seems done, carrots still crispen secretly under straw, onions sharpen, sage gleams silver.

      Harvest is over

Harvest is never done.