Sometimes in the early stages of learning to track their patterns I invite embodiment members in our co-op to learn their women’s mystery moon, meaning their own cycle of their own womb. And to do this I illustrate the idea that if asked, folks usually answer that the moon’s cycle is 28 days when in truth it is closer to 30, 29 and a half roughly from new phase to new. This has to do with how you are following time, the standard way of moon completing orbit around the earth (yes 28ish), or the alchemical, following the complete interplay between dark and light reflection, between moon and sun.

This is a way of thinking that deepens metaphor while connecting realistically to nature’s patterns, helpful when learning to reconnect to the body and her patterns, too.

Most child-bearing age and stage gals are the same, needing to learn to move out of the “norm” their brain’s been indoctrinated to about 28-day cycles, and into their bodies truth, figuring out what their true alchemical pattern really is. A lot of gals find their red tent cycle is like 32-33 days long and think that this means there’s something wrong with them! And yes, I am truly suggesting that the human body is a power house, a true alchemical-master.

That we are trained to fight and fear.

So this is what I am thinking of, like wow what a f*gn cycle it’s been, just since Ken’s (our eldest who graduated hs this month Go Rams) Homecoming. Colt in black belt club Leilah working the go-kart joint where all the bad beach boys worked in 1993 also this whole time. I tried to document the change and the quickening sped-upness of time that accompanied this change for her, for all of us, on my previous pic gallery post titled Spring.

Ken’s prom. The sun after two days of rain broke rank and made an orb of yellow crisp light in downtown Salisbury just in time for pics and sunset, stunning precious moment by moment light and movement of blessed woman, becoming…meantime the rest of the sky and surrounding towns still covered and grey…we said goodbye her dad and baby sis and I that incredible meal at Mogan’s the Snow Hill oysters tasting just like a scoop of 50th-street sun-soaked boardwalk salt and us walking the labyrinth til El got frustrated and quit…That same week we moved the tent to the forest all bc of dad and Tom and DFS hosted partners for the first time with the IPC, and then camping Memorial Day weekend then Ken graduating Annie’s birthday crabcakes and cooking and celebrating our eldest then her leaving us for the whole summer… and Assateague beach-waking just me and my lil camping under the weird fire-sun-sky…and our first Women’s Circle with the original members in the forest and sessions in the tent then later, third Friday and pride with De Laura then getting my Baltimore wifey to come to the county–this natural unplanned bookend Fri to Sat 24 hours of getting initiated by my own secret sacred sect of savage wise wyldry gals, sentinels of Autonomy, Laura W and Laura W on either end.

A woman’s mystery moon cycle. Time outside time, stillness and chaos and movement and sameness not same of time, transmuting.

Multiflora run the whole edge of the forest where the creek is here. Wild roses, the scent of May. They bloomed for three weeks starting days before May day filling the air every few moments or so with whiffs of heady heart-tug sweet light. The sun set in an orange muted-ball for the same amount of time, weeks at a time, and this was weeks before we were on the news as today’s hit of orange skies and apocalyptic terror. This was when the tulip poplar flowers and fronds of native ferns unfurled in whole. It is hard to tell elder from queen anne’s lace or hemlock but out our back door and on these back roads the gentle wish-luster white of the little blossoms sway and flow. Elder won’t be much longer for the dark green ditches and forest edges here and otherwise we are just starting to everywhere see the other two. The honeysuckle which I am used to smelling in the Pines at Solstice time really hit their fragrant roundness almost three weeks ago here in Wicoco, under the last full moon. Summer just started and already there’s been so much bloom, and so much winter, so much not on time that had to be bc it was, so much change, so much coldness, so much celebration, so much grace.

Women’s mystery moon cycle. The alchemy of the sun, earth, moon. Of the body, of bodies in relation making matter transform.

Blessed be this finally here season of the sun~