October Full Moon Update

Greetings from the Full Moon! 

The moon is pinkish-red above the horizon and my body is shaking with energy snaking through.

Like you perhaps, I wish we could talk merely of harvests and river play, of moon dances and fall frolics. It gives us no pleasure to name that we are in a moment of open fascist ascendency and ecological crises. 

We understand the strategies of flight. This week I and many people I know had to flee their homes due to fires and air thick with smoke. We were exposed to what passes for leadership at the “presidential debate” and are still reeling from the gross and embarrassing display of ugliness and silliness. We were exposed to the disgrace of the grand jury’s decision in Breonna Taylor’s case. And we are exposed to Covid, which has us laboring to breathe behind masks. 

“I can’t breathe.” These were the last words of George Floyd and Eric Garner. It is a plea for Life. Toxic air. Toxic politics. Toxic masculinity. Toxic policing and toxic injustice system. Toxic economy. Increasingly, it becomes difficult to catch our breath. 

I can’t help but draw the connections between all these types of toxicities and it has me reflecting on resiliency and what breath might mean as transformative agent. 

Flight as a mode, while understandable, is not only not useful, it is ultimately not possible. We are here. Our breath is the moment. If there is no escape, if the very air we live in and lives in us is toxic, what can we do? 

One response: we can metabolize the ash of what is burning in our bodies and hearts and over-culture and alchemize it into new forms. We can breathe fresh air into bold images in exchange for earth’s outbreath. We circulate our vitality as rent for Life. This is a contract worth entering into.

I want to offer a different image of resiliency for us to reclaim our bodies and wild nature hearts as vehicles of co-liberation: The Trampoline.

It often feels like we are walking a tightrope. On a tightrope, our concentration is fierce, sweat is on our brow, our muscles and hearts are tight, anxiety fills us because we feel constantly on the verge of falling to our doom. 

But what if instead of walking a tightrope, we are jumping on a trampoline? 

Merriam-Webster defines a trampoline as ‘a resilient sheet or web supported by springs in a metal frame and used as a springboard and landing area in tumbling.”

Instead of a rope strung tautly from one end to another, a trampoline is stretched between a solid frame, attached by many springs. We can take a breath with each spring and feel each of them as portal of power, as inner and outer resources. The more springs we have the more buoyancy we have. 

Being with the pregnant moon is a spring. Honoring the fullness of our feelings is a spring. Beauty is a spring. Rest and healthy food is a spring. Friendship is a spring. Feet in the creek is a spring. Honoring our truth is a spring. Playfulness is a spring. Embodying our purpose is a spring. Taking meaningful action is a spring.

We are relational creatures in a relational universe. The more springs we have, the more we return to relational presence. And the more relational presence we cultivate, the more acrobatic. We have more moves.  And we’re going to need every move we can imagine.

I also like this image because it is circular, like Life, not linear, like a tightrope:

We attach our springs and we jump in the circle. We pour our unique acrobatic panoramic breath and body into the world. We become webs of resiliency with each other. This is called fierce love. This is the wisdom of no escape. 

May our doings and being be not only exhales of fresh air from our deepest well, but jumping prayers of sacred breath for all. This is the revolution of the new breathing and it is calling us. 

Director of Creative Earthiness

Writing from my trampoline in ancestral Wiyot territories and the Baduwat River watershed, Northern California

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