Why the Moon?
Because she’s the world’s celestial anchor. Her gravity stabilizes earth on its axis. She’s both predictable and wild. Because she’s got a rhythm all her own that mirrors the seasons. We find our own rhythms when we look to her as a guide. Because we can feel her inside of us. Coaxing us to connect, forcing us to remember. The earliest people obeyed her orbit, and that lineage is still within us. It mirrors our own rhythms and cycles, our energy and our emotions. These observations remind us of our humanity and our true nature.
Because she represents our interior: the unseen, our receptivity, our psychic abilities. The power of our water. The vitality of our love. The entirety of our complexities that can’t be packaged and sold. Because La Luna lights up the night, illuminates the darkness of the subconscious, where the deep mind lives. In astrology, psychology, and some magical traditions, the moon represents the subconscious. The subconscious is a source of our yearning and fear; it is where the stories and motivations behind our conscious behavior reveal themselves. When we decide to program our subconscious, we change our beliefs. When we change our beliefs, our behavior changes. When our behavior changes, our life changes.
Because moon work helps us tap into our deepest patterns and aids us in reflection and release around them. She is a tool to help us discover our unique truths and our specific needs. She helps us connect to and unleash all unique wisdom we possess.
Once upon a time, this planet lived by the moon. Our calendars were lunar. We planted by the moon, made decisions in harmony with the seasons and the constellations. Over time, through war, violence, and colonization, the shadow solar life—productive, binary, externally focused, competitive—came to dominate. Industrialization removed many humans from nature. Lunar life receded. Instead of placing value in our intuition, in the unknown, in cycles and mysteries, we deemed them scary and thus nonexistent. What one could not explain, one could not control. What could not be controlled was demonized, exploited, extracted, locked up, killed. Indigenous people. Black people. Queer people. Trans people. The feminine. The wild woman. The witch.
But she’s back. That bitch, that witch, she’s back. The season of the witch ascends again, and the moon has always been our emblem: since Hathor’s crown, since Sappho’s lyrics, since the first stone temples were built to worship Hecate’s sorcery. Witch on broom, flying across a full moon. Cauldron in a clearing, night shadows dancing, potion charged for healing. Because she is here to remind us that everything sacred returns. (That’s because it never left.)
Because we are here now to dismantle white supremacist patriarchy—and we must do so together. With our mindset, our conversations, our actions, and our collaborations, a new wave of soft power, change, and magic is being brought forth. For all people who know and long for a different way, forged of compassion—anyone who has felt othered, punished, policed, or anyone who has been abused or marginalized for simply being who they are.
The moon is a love letter to our wildness. It’s a reminder of our resilience in the face of subjugation. It’s a promise to recognize the power inherent in the collective feminine. Our soft power: power with, power within, not power over. Developing and defining our own magic is feminist art. Tapping into our personal power and channeling it for the betterment of all is feminist art. Helping others work with their own gifts, supporting one another, reflecting another’s beauty back to them is feminist art. The moon reflects and transforms sunlight. We reflect ourselves back to one another and behold collective transformation.
Since the beginning of time, artists have tried to translate her particular light into an understandable language. Yet she somehow still summons us to the page, the instrument, the easel. The moon inspires, perhaps because her cycle acts as a blueprint for the creative process. There are dreams, visions, inspiration; we are in a new moon phase. A spark becomes a flame; we roll up our sleeves, seduce material out of thin air; we gain momentum, we build; we embrace the energy of the waxing moon. After practice and repeated effort comes culmination and embodiment. We celebrate, we share, we shine brightly. Others witness our glow. We are under the possession of the full moon phase.
Because magic is real. Moon magic is potent. When we follow along with her cycles, it aids our goals and dreams. Our power is channeled effectively when we mirror the processes of nature. Cycles of rest next to cycles of harvest lead to moments of embodiment, which turn into time spent clearing and reflecting. When we experiment with our own definitions of success, when we respect our own flow, we find ourselves pleasantly surprised by what transpires.
Because time is not linear and neither are our lives. Following the light of the moon goes against the binary of either/or. Beyond duality. It encapsulates the spiral; it acknowledges the death that precedes rebirth. When we are attuned to this natural process and can navigate our own processes accordingly, we are able to deal with change masterfully.
Moon work results in the exploration of different paradigms, endlessly generative options, and greater integration and understanding of the levels and layers of our conscious states. This book will provide you with a framework on how to utilize the entire lunar cycle holistically. You will be invited to explore the main phases of the moon, and will be offered various suggestions on how to work with each one. We will also introduce ways to develop a relationship with your own cycles—energetic, personal, and emotional—through the lens of the moon’s phases. I encourage you to do this work for a while, just for you, without a lot of other outside input or influences. Give yourself the time and space to tune in to your own flow and energy patterns. Create your own personal relationship with the moon.
This book is written from my perspective, which is a feminist, queer one. I cannot separate my politics from my spiritual beliefs. What I share here stems from my life experiences over the past twenty years as a magical practitioner, a teacher, a student, a professional psychic and tarot reader, and an artist. My perspective reflects my background as a white cis woman, and all the conscious and unconscious privilege that identity holds. I do not write thinking that readers will resonate with every thought or sentence presented. Part of the most important work we can do is to think critically for ourselves and explore what resonates and works for us. Take what you like and leave the rest.
This book is written in the hopes that it will support you in helping you to remember exactly who you are, exactly what you want, and show you how to get there. I hope to provide you with a variety of tools to help you as you walk confidently along your own precious path. You are incredibly powerful. You are fundamentally worthy. I seek to provide you with a lunar guide to show you how much you are already connected—to your cycles, your gifts, your intuition, the magical world, and the web of the cosmos.
What Is the Moon?
THE MOON IS A SATELLITE
For millennia, humans have gazed at the night sky and asked themselves the same question. What is the moon? The answers have varied—at times literal, sometimes metaphorical, often spiritual. Often these answers have led to more questions.
The moon is the earth’s only natural satellite. Johannes Kepler coined the term in the early seventeenth century, from the Latin satelles, meaning “companion” or “guard.” Formed at least 4.5 billion years ago, the moon is about the same age as the earth. General theories of how the moon was created all involve impacts, though scientists are still trying to figure out the exact genesis of our cosmic companion. The “giant impact” theory hypothesizes that the moon was formed when an object struck earth. The matter that came off that impact, over time, accumulated to become what we now call the moon.1
The moon is our closest celestial neighbor. The same side of the moon faces earth. This could explain the moon’s comforting familiarity to us, as her repeated visage has slowly been etched in our minds. The moon completes one orbit around the earth in approximately 27.3 days, which is called a sidereal month. Because the earth is also moving around the sun, it takes additional time for the moon to complete one whole phase, to realign with the sun, from new moon to new moon. This is called a synodic month, and for us on the earth, it appears as 29.5 days: approximately the length of a month. The moon’s elliptical orbit rotates counterclockwise. At times it is quite close to us, other times much farther away. This is how we get “super” and “micro” moons. One month the full moon looks show-stoppingly huge. The next, it appears as distant as a lover departing.
The moon is made up of a variety of different matter, some of which is shared with our planet. Igneous rocks, feldspar, and iron are some of the types of material found on and in the moon. One of its minerals, olivine, is found both in the tails of comets and in the upper mantle of the earth.
There is no atmosphere on the moon. Aside from intermittent moonquakes, it is a still and quiet place. The footprints left behind by the astronauts more than fifty years ago will stay forever. The moon is sensitive, just like you.
Humans have projected pictures on the surface of our satellite. These turn into stories, myths, deities. The numerous peaks and valleys on the moon create the appearance of a hazy face, complete with Mona Lisa smile. Some have interpreted these marks as a rabbit, or a buffalo, or a frog, or a man. These were created by large impacts of asteroids and meteoroids hitting the powdery lunar surface over billions of years. The moon’s geographic phenomena have their own nomenclature, created by Giovanni Battista Riccioli in 1651.2 The basins and plains on the lunar surface that appear darker are the maria, which is the Latin word for seas; the singular is mare. (The earliest viewers of the moon thought these lower elevated plains were seas, but the moon’s surface, to our knowledge, contains no water.) Their names are beguiling and evocative: Serpent Sea, or Mare Anguis; Sea of Cleverness, or Mare Ingenii; Sea of the Edge, Sea of Serenity, Sea of Crises.
Similar to the maria are the lacus: smaller basaltic plains. (Lacus is the Latin word for “lake.”) There is the Lake of Luxury, which resides near the Lake of Forgetfulness. The Lake of Hatred, or Lacus Odii, is on the same latitude as the Lake of Happiness, or Lacus Felicitatis. Intense dramas alongside pools of contentment; such is life in the lunar realm.
There are smaller, similar features called sinus (Latin for “bay”) and palus (Latin for “marsh”). These include the Seething Bay, the Bay of Rainbows, the Marsh of Sleep, and the Marsh of Decay.
The moon is not a circle. Like the earth, the moon is shaped like an egg. The cosmic egg figures in many ancient creation myths. The moon is about 33 percent smaller than the earth—its diameter is slightly less than the distance between Los Angeles and New York.3
What are we looking at, when we look up at the moon? A reflection of the sun from across the universe. The moon does not generate its own light. It is a very dark gray, with some green due to the olivine. The moon appears bright white, silver, or yellow, or red, or even slightly blue sometimes, due to the way light changes moving though our atmosphere. Most folks have particular moon memories: a full moon that seemed to follow them as they walked home alone one cold winter night, or stare them down through their bedroom window as they unsuccessfully tried to sleep. A full moon disco ball as backdrop to the perfect summer dance party. The unique angles, reflections, temperature, atmosphere, season, and weather conditions make each appearance completely unique, enhancing our experience with the element of surprise.
The moon is responsible for the gravitational force of water on our planet. It affects all the tides—not only the ocean, but the lakes and rivers. Not just the water on the surface of our globe. All the water on the earth and in the earth. That includes all the water in plants, animals, and humans. People consist of up to 60 percent water. The moon influences all the water inside of you.
The sun’s gravitational pull also has an effect on the tides, but as the moon is closer to the earth, its influence is much greater. The moon’s gravity affects the earth so much that the earth itself may rise as much as a foot when the moon is directly overhead.4 The moon stabilizes the earth’s axis. Without the moon, the earth would shake more, and shift on its axis in unpredictable ways. This gravitational relationship regulates our seasons. If the moon didn’t exist, seasons would be irregular and the weather more extreme. Days would be much shorter; life on earth would be very different. The earth’s only companion is a helpful one.5
The moon helps crops grow. Humankind originally planted and grew their crops by the moon. Many still do. Lunar gardening uses the phases of the moon, the moon’s path, and the moon’s sign, to sow, plant, and harvest vegetables. This system was developed thousands of years ago and is still used today. There are various “elemental days” that correspond to what astrological sign the moon is in: An earth day corresponds to roots, water corresponds to leaves, air corresponds to flowers, and fire corresponds to fruit/seeding days. Moon calendars for gardening are based on astronomy, not astrology. They use a sidereal zodiac to determine recommended times to plant, harvest, propagate, and sow.6
Human’s evolution is partially linked to the moon. Our bright satellite helped humans see at night, while they traveled, worked, and worshipped. The moon helped humans keep track of time, which led to the proliferation of agriculture, which led to the formation of organized societies.
Acknowledging the moon in this way brings us back to our bodies, our lineages, our life. It reminds us of our bodies’ natural intelligence, its circadian cycles, our other responses and rhythms. We observe the moon’s changing light reflected in the seasons, in our gardens. We connect to the tides inside of us.
THE MOON IS FOR EVERYBODY
No one owns the moon. This world is so extractive, though, it’s only a matter of time before the moon becomes just another place to pillage and destroy. The 2015 S.P. A.C.E. Act (Spurring Private Aerospace Competitiveness and Entrepreneurship) is allowing U.S. citizens and industries to “engage in the commercial exploration and exploitation of space resources.” In other words, any corporation can mine the minerals of any planet, asteroid, or satellite. Any corporation can drill on Mars, can drain the moon of its fabled stores of subsurface water. Profit above all.
Already, our globe can barely contain the emptiness disguised as greed that courses through it. Even the men who landed on the moon left trash on her. People still regularly litter her surface, routinely crashing probes on the moon at the end of unmanned lunar exploration missions. All in all, we’ve left upward of 400,000 pounds of debris on the moon. Tossed in the Sea of Tranquility, strewn about in the various lunar maria are twelve pairs of moon boots; several Hasselblad cameras; a plaque signed by Richard Nixon; 96 pounds of urine, excrement, and vomit; multiple hammers, five American flags, and much, much more. Because the moon has no atmosphere, these objects will never decompose or be blown off.7 Nowadays, with lunar tourism on the horizon, it’s not so far-fetched to imagine a universe filled with candy wrappers, plastic bottles, and diapers floating past one’s spaceship window.
This is the trash that we leave on the holy face of the cosmos. This is the extractive way we are taught to treat sacred nature, and our sacred natures. This is the extractive way we are taught to consider relationships. The extractive ways we try to use and sell magic. The moon has watched us this entire time. She was overhead as Alexander the Great pillaged; she circled us during the Tiananmen Square protests. She has always been a muse, beaming her rays of inspiration down on poets from Rumi to Rilke to Audre Lorde. She watched as the buffalo were slaughtered, wiped almost entirely from the plains of Turtle Island; she was overhead as the Trail of Tears left an entire land almost empty of its stewards. A full moon shone down on the last moments of the Stonewall riots, beer bottle missiles glittering in the night. The moon shines upon us still as coral reefs disintegrate and as we protest seemingly endless injustices and as we continue to figure out ways to love one another without destroying ourselves. She will continue to shine even in our absence. The great moon, mother of the heavens, does not belong to us. She exists beyond human time. She does not care. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care about her.
Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Faith Gottesdiener