Marinating in Moonlight

Greetings to our friends & community,

Ah, to be marinated in moonlight. Soaking in the lunar eclipse I felt as if any and all dry, brittle, gristly bits within were saturated, moistened and tenderized. The succulent meat fell from the bone.

I felt a strong sense of place in the universe: a fragment of a speck and ‘it all’, witness and participant, bright and full, and dark and full, and bright and full. Enveloped in this sense of flow, I went all sorts of places. One place I traveled to was thoughts about veils and ancestors--of connection, of place and time.

I didn’t come from a family that had a strong sense of ancestral lineage. They were European immigrants that had left their landing point on the East coast for the West coast. They had been here long enough to mix it up with the American dream, but not long enough to lay claim to an American lineage. I know virtually nothing about my biological father and his line. I knew one grandmother. Whenever I asked her about the ‘old country’, she would turn her head and spit--effective communication but the end of conversation. In our family, there were few and far-between stories of distant times and people. Stories keep the ancestors alive. We were modern. We were busy writing new stories.

And so, under the lunar soaking the ancients came to me as it all and I laid claim to it as all. All creation is my ancestral lineage. I offer veneration and give honor and praise.

Viva la Dia de los Muertos!

Peace be with you,

Teresa, spirit of Thule, Tucker, Huxley and all at Paradise Found