"The moon was created for the counting of days." - Hebrew midrash
I told you in the last moon diary that the Harvest Moon, because it's just the moon closest to the Autumn Equinox, could fall in either September or October, depending on the year. Linked to it is our other "mobile" moon - the Hunter's Moon, traditionally the first full moon after the Harvest Moon, whenever that falls. As it does during the Harvest Moon, the narrow angle of the ecliptic during the Hunter's Moon means a shorter gap between successive moonrises - and, as a result, no long darkness between sunset and moonrise. That means extra light, well into the evening hours - for bringing in crops during the harvest or, this month, for making those final hunts before the prey migrates away or hunkers down for the Winter.
The October moon can also called the Blood Moon, partly from that same association with hunting, partly because atmospheric defraction sometimes tends to give it a reddish color, and partly because this was also the time to cull the herds. Keeping a whole herd alive through the Winter means a lot of feed and a lot of work. For the bulls that don't produce good offspring, that's a waste - ditto for the old, weak or sick. So our ancestors thinned their herds to get the most from the fewest, so that every bucket of feed, every hour of care and tending, would be worthwhile and - in the coming Spring - be as productive as possible.
You can't hold onto everything, going into Winter.
That same lesson carries into another aspect of this moon, the one my own coven likes to observe. For the full moon coming this Tuesday night - last of the Pagan year - we find significance in a different bit of symbolism.
We call this the Shedding Moon.
Read on . . .
“October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came -
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind, the band.”
- George Cooper, "October's Party"
This is how Autumn happens:
All through the long days of Summer, the leaves of deciduous trees are green with chlorophyll. They capture the light of the sun and make glucose, which is then passed to the tree. Then the days grow shorter as the world rolls into Autumn. There is less light, for fewer hours, and photosynthesis becomes more and more a losing proposition.
The leaves are worn out – damaged by birds and insects and wind. Autumn winds flow over the broad, flat surface of those leaves and - becoming ever colder and ever dryer as the season slides into Winter – threaten to draw vital water from the tree.
Going out in style . . .
The leaves have outlived their usefulness. Damaged, producing less food by the day, losing moisture, they become a
drain. So the tree does as we do. It packs away a store of food for the Winter ahead, and then culls what it can no longer use, what is no longer worth keeping.
A cork layer seals off the leaf at the petiole. The flow to and from the tree slows to a trickle, then finally stops. The green drains from the leaves as chlorophyll production shuts down. Now Chemistry and Biology dress these sacrificial leaves in new colors for their last days – yellows, reds, golds.
“Mourn me not with apparel of black, But dress in color and rejoice with me.” - Khalil Gibran
Then their last day comes. The tree lets them go. They die, and fall, and blanket the earth. They become compost, to feed the tree that shed them, as that naked tree hunkers down until the Spring brings it new, whole, healthy leaves.
This is how the world must go. A tree that tried to carry the burden of old leaves into the harshness of Winter would have a struggle to survive it - and those old, tattered things would be little use when the days grew bright and long again.
You can't hold onto everything, going into Winter.
"To change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard." – Anais Nin
So we discard - this season, this moon, is a time for releasing all those things that have outlived their usefulness . . . if they were useful to begin with. We carry with us old grievances, old habits, old pains, old wrongs. We drag along some things - and some
people - that give us nothing, and take too much.
And this moon, with year's end at Samhain in sight and closing fast, is the time to let them go. This is the time to shed our leaves, so we can grow in the new Spring.
The Burning of the Leaves
“Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods / And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.” – William Allingham
This is an annual ritual in my coven, done either at the Shedding Moon or at the Samhain ritual.
Cut small leaves out of paper. We use construction paper, in the colors of Autumn leaves, and three or four basic leaf shapes for variety, but yours can be as simple as you like. You need enough for each person to have several - leftovers will keep til next year.
Everyone sit quietly around a fire, a bit apart, with their share of the "leaves" and a pencil. On each leaf, write something. It may be a habit, a flaw, a hurt - even a name, if there's someone you need to be well and truly done with. Write only one thing on each leaf - I prefer to write only a single word, but a short phrase is fine.
These are your leaves. These are the things that are draining you, that are taking up the space that healthy new growth needs. Meditate silently on each one. Whatever it is, really truly focus on letting it go. Visualize that process of sealing off the petiole. See the leaf dangle, and drop away. Release it into the fire. Meditate on the next, until your last leaf falls.
"By letting it go it all gets done. The world is won by those who let it go." - Lao Tzu
Out with the old . . .
Trees release their leaves so new ones can grow. We prune plants so they can grow back larger, healthier. We cull herds to make them stronger.
And we release our old mental habits, our self-imposed limits, our negative influences, our grudges, so something new can take their place. Something positive. Shedding these old, worn-out things, these things that draw from us rather than give to us, opens the way for new habits, new perspectives, new people. By releasing what holds us down, holds us back, drains our minds and spirits and bodies, we open ourselves to new growth, to endless new possibilities. We are reborn.
"October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen. It is the distant hills once more in sight, and the enduring constellations above them once again." - Hal Borland
The last moon of the year, whatever its aspect, is a time to take stock and, more importantly, to leave behind all that which should be left behind. With Samhain just a few short weeks away, it is important that we greet the new year as free of old burdens as we can . . . because as long as we are alive and growing, the Spring will always bring us new things to carry.
Blessed Be.