Monday, February 8, 2010

Deep Dark Moonday

Happy Moonday!

'Why, what's Moonday?' you ask.  I'll tell you. This marks week six of the Moonday Experiment, designed to help me, and whoever else wants to play, to take a little time out on Mondays to celebrate the moon by doing something creative and/or wild despite the dominant culture's referendum on Monday wildness, in the hope that it will spark some of our own wildness and unbridled creativity.

Personal update on the experiment:  I've been having a bit more fun playing around.  Last Moonday I collaged a card in my journal.  I decided that it was a note from my fairy godmother telling me that she had my back, used lots of glitter, and the next day I happened to find the perfect dress for an upcoming performance-- bippity boppity boo.


If you've been reading this blog for a little while, you might have noticed that I've been sort of play-challenged recently, and have had to go to some lengths to bring out my silly side.  Celebrating Moonday every week seems to be helping me to get over myself loosen up.

Today's waning crescent moon is going into the darkest phase of a dark month.  I shouldn't be surprised that I'm feeling internal, desiring to hole up.  I long for a snowy cabin and silence.  Spring is just around the corner, and for a gardener that means work.  I have a lot more deep dreaming to do between now and then. 

I've been thrilled by the stories, poems, and links to artwork in the comments each Moonday.  They are fantastic.  Worth checking out.  Skip over my old Moonday posts and go right to the comments.  I hope some of you will grace me with your Moonday inspirations again or for the first time this week. If you would share a poem, or links to artwork, stories, songs, dances... any art--in the broadest sense of the word-- that you want to share or that inspires you.  No theme, just something that jazzes you up, that makes you want to dance, or  bust out your crayons, a poem or scribble you made in a burst of exuberance or  painstakingly crafted (though I am very pro burst of exuberance creating--- internal critics can go stand in the corner.)

Here's mine-- my internal critic wants to warn you that it may not be very good at all, especially as I'm making it up on the spot.  Now I'm putting duct tape over her mouth.  Ah.  Better.

Slippery green snake
undulating in a bowl of twigs and dead leaves,
your back glistens with honey,
your forked tongue flicking in and out
for the delight of the feeling.

You ate the eggs last summer.
The birds have long since flown.
You are alone and sated
in a nest under a broken hive
honey-coated against the cold.

7 comments:

Sandi Longhurst said...

I love the light-hearted post, bippity boppity boo. I’m delighted the glitter of your fairy godmother accomplished her magic. I love the power of fairy godmothers. A very dear mentor helped me redefine my relationship with God from the punitive enforcer of duty to a more supportive and loving one I could trust to look after me. She said I could use any image – I came up with a butterfly fairy princess with purple lace wings, sheer ribbons and bouncy curls as my godmother who was a great companion for years. My creative choice in Diety will be my Moonday contribution as I never took “Poetry for Excel” in business school – I know things should rhyme and there’s something about the length of lines…

Kate T.W. said...

I adore your Deity image Sandi.

Allow me to chop up your words into phrases, just putting the line breaks where the image changes...

My Creative Choice in Deity

a butterfly fairy princess
with purple lace wings
sheer ribbons
and bouncy curls


That is a fabulous poem. So there.

Sandi Longhurst said...

love it, thank you!

rutherv said...

I'm chugging along with the 30 day poetry challenge - 8 days, 8 poems! Here's one from this week ( a tribute to That Time of the Month):

The Guest

Old friend
You've come to visit me again
You knock on the back door.
But I am sleeping.
I do not hear you.
So you bound in like a panther
I wake up pinned down
By your mighty black paws
And your sandpaper tongue on my lips.

I struggle to rise
To fetch the pink towels I bought for your use
But you are prowling the house
Knocking over my pots and plans
I run after you, cursing
brandishing broom
But you curl up in a circle
on my hearth.
So I lie down beside you
in the crook of your warmth.
And we stare into the fire together
Until my breathing matches
the rhythm of your purrs.

I gaze at the wreckage of my parlor.
And slowly I begin to laugh.
It starts out small, just a giggle
Like a Crock Pot
that takes its time heating up.
But soon my stomach is shaking like a pot lid.
I'm laughing so hard I get cramps.
Who was I to think I could tame you?
You were never a guest in my house.
I am a guest in yours.

Kate T.W. said...

Wow Ruth. I have chills. Thank you for sharing this.

wholly jeanne said...

bippity-boppity-boo, what fun this is. the post and the comments all make a great playground.

Kate T.W. said...

Thanks. That reminds me... the moon is pretty relaxed about time, waxing and waning by degrees.. so I'm sure that posting here later than Monday would be fine with the moon.