SUPERMOONIA

The SUPERMOON is rising. This morning, I awoke to an Instagram feed chock-full of shots of the SUPERMOON (everybody was at the beach, apparently?). I hear this SUPERMOON has the potential to cause its admirers to be SUPERMOODY.

The full moon rising is the rare time when the astrology nuts are permitted to climb out from behind their star charts, and say, “I TOLD YOU SO, FUCKERS!” It becomes hard to deny the supermood when you’ve gotten misty-eyed from nine out of the last 10 commercials and only one of them is a “Folgers” ad, (since when did insurance become so…moving?).

So what does this mean for those of us who are left howling at the moon?

Can we combat the SUPERMOOD?

Or does it just run its course?

The answer: a little bit of both. Because of the astrological climate at the present moment, this may be a time when you are feeling particularly UNbalanced; you can’t keep your head above water at work, the person at the next table is just TALKING TOO LOUD, and that damn Folger’s commercial keeps running between episodes of The Mindy Project (tissues are running low, people). Blame it on the Supermoon, and do something that helps you find balance. [Warning: yoga analogy ahead.] When you fall out of tree pose in class, you don’t just melt to the ground – you reset.

Balance can seem scary because we often think of it as an end point after which everything will remain balanced, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Balance is not about maintaining a continual flow, in fact, there is no such thing as continual balance. Balance is only achieved in moments, and is a process of changing, readjusting, shifting, and realigning. So when the supermood hits, let’s reset.

Wallow, if you need to. Scream into a pillow. These are emotions that are rising up (with the moon) for a reason, and to experience them, and allow yourself to feel them is to free yourself from their binds. Just be sure remain kind to loved ones in the process, the Supermood can be ruthless. Kisses can combat the crazy.

I reset by sitting down with my coffee, gaze on the water beyond the window, and writing this. Here are some other ideas on how to reset*:

Find a quiet spot, and write in a journal for ten minutes.

Close your eyes, and take a deep breath.

Blast Sia’s Chandelier in your bedroom, and perform associated interpretive dance in your jammies. (YOU KNOW YOU DID TOO)

Stretch really big, and sigh really loud.

Go for a walk, run, or hike.

Pet your pup.

*list is not comprehensive. for more ideas, use your noodle.

How will you reset when the supermood strikes?

Wake up, and start doing.

I've long sought inspiration from one of my favorite blogs, and weekly reads, Zen Habits. I'll read each article; nod, agree, feel empowered...and then what? Nothing happens. Well, of course it doesn't, Lucy, you're the one that makes everything happen. I know, but where does inspiration become creation, and how do I make that push?

Emily Dickinson often relished that s p a c e  in between  things, and fed her verse with that ambiguity. Writing was not something she worked to produce. Certainly, it was work, but it flowed out of her, because she didn't question it, and she gave it space to continue flowing.

I feel like I give myself too much space, and at the same time, none at all. Making space for me. I've written about this before, but I suppose I have yet to understand what it means to truly have that space I crave. With all of the pressures and stresses of this transient time of life on my shoulders, I realize I've let myself take the back seat, and just fly on the whim of my anxieties.

What do you do when you have the knowledge and tools, but consciousness tricks you into leaving them dormant?

Zen Habits recommends trying one habit at a time, that one is more likely to stick than 5. So, here comes a shift in priorities, and the purposeful space I've been longing to give to myself. Let's try one habit that is composed of two activities: yoga and blogging. Not for anyone but myself. Go!

snowstorm

looking up the river today, there's no looking. an opaque whiteness comes and whips you into icy oblivion.

heat up the rooms with banana bread and savory bites. stew from yesterday's supper bubbles on the stove. ice freezes in patterns like i've never seen on the windows.

fire crackles while the wind howls, angrily, against the panes.

so, we'll sit, sing, and sip until the storm settles.

Inspiration by Ira

Thanks, Ira Glass, for this. I think we all need to hear it. 

struggle.

I am having the really strong pull to write something...but don't have hours to devote to discovering what that something is.

I wish to wake up in the morning, walk to my desk, and begin something wonderful. I want to have adventures. It's like I'm rushing to find stillness. As I write now, I hear with each tap of the keys, the simultaneous clicking of a clock that I can't slow. It's time to get up. It's time to get dressed, wash your face, slug the mug, and get out of the house. The morning hours are the most precious, I cannot seem to capture them. 

Alas.