The Hidden Moon & Spell Speaking

the hidden moon Given it is a New Moon Eclipse, perhaps there ought to be a story of a Hidden Sun, but I have long realised, I don’t get to make the rules when it comes to what wants to move in and through and out of me. The Hidden or Buried or Dead (this one I still haven’t figured out) Moon is a traditional folk tale unique to Lincolnshire - never ever let anyone tell you otherwise. It suddenly felt a little bit important to share with you the recording of it that I made at the Summer Solstice. It might have been last year, or the year before. Somehow my mind is reluctant to clarify. Regardless, it was captured as I sat in my most beloved place by Crow Cottage, having wandered through the Gap in the Old Stone Wall here in Rutland (don’t look for it on a map, you probably won’t find it), speaking the story with the peoples that live hereabouts.I dedicate it to our grandmothers, wherever they now reside, to their fortitude and grit, for how they have shown up in the world, and all that had to be discarded so we might begin the possibility of our own lives deep, deep, deep in their bellies.

the eclipse prophecy of the crystal ball             The buzz of awakenings God is trying to sell you something rapid movement, a collective beating of drums, Arms bandaged                       around one another. A wonderful web that holds us all,       myscelium; connected fungus. Stories keep a connection to the past. The Giants who are always                    hungry. During the full blood moon eclipse, Community and unity, coming together to share our magic and love with the world,                              A deep breath, Let yourself run like the panther, the quest of the Lake Dragon, begins with the moon sinking                         into the water,       fire energy, dragon rises, never let the fear of loss keep you from leaning all the way in,    open,                  the earth will rise again      open.                 

At Oxford Storytelling Festival, I had the great good fortune of creating with a handful of extraodinary strangers in a workshop facilitated by the astounding and outstanding Ragabond Theatre. What began as a simple exercise in reflecting on our weekend, stirred in alchemising and potentising ways, sung in a chant and danced around our (health and safety conscious) fire. The above is the spell that emerged. I encourage you put on a party outfit, find a saucepan to bang, roar out the words to the sun, and see what happens. Special thanks to my fellow magic weavers for this time of spontaneous ceremony, and for the permission to share what we created together here with you.