Finding the Moonfield: Unleash Your Wildness

I miss the nights when I played with my children in the Moonfield; a place that explodes in the silver light of the moon, illuminating all that lies beneath, casting distinct shadows typically acknowledged by day. 

A full moon is not required for such brilliance. Take last night for example; the moon is in the first quarter – a perfect night for frolicking.

At one time, my children and I often climbed over the stone wall to the field by the school to our first Moonfield. We had endless space to run freely. That is when we created our game of “Moon Tag”. Just the mentioning of it conjures up the echo of innocent laughter that drifts away to the edges of the field into the long, thin, lines of tree shadows.

Of course this game can be played in sunlight; but there is more magic in the moon.

The object of the game is to chase each other’s shadow – tag the other person without physically touching him or her – your shadow touches his shadow. It doesn’t count if you make physical contact. I started this game with my three children when they were about four, six and seven years of age.

It works well on a variety of levels. It is possible to play the game when the moon rises early in the evening, just after dark. It gives your little one(s) an opportunity to run, laugh and exercise in the fresh air, making way for a good night’s sleep. [Actually, this game is not limited to children. If you were here now, I would initiate a good game of “Moon Tag” with you.]

It invites silliness. I love that part about it. There is no competition. At first it’s a bit challenging to work with shadows as opposed to your physical beings. However, once you get used to it…the game rises to a new level because you now comprehend moon shadows.

Games in nature have depth in meaning. We are able to use the power of our body, mind and spirit in imagination. We are in the wild, living our wildish nature. Batteries, chargers, smart cards and other stuff are not needed, nor do they matter. When we play such games in the Moonfield (or other Gaian places), in addition to connecting with each other, Our Mother and the moon; we connect to our heart, soul, and to the wildness that resides within. We have an opportunity to externalize our untamed nature, which stirs the colors of our vibrancy, stimulating emotional, spiritual and creative growth.

These games played in the Moonfield reclaim that which has been lost in the age of technology, which are weakening the senses. We merge with our vision and values, responding to the joy of being where we belong – out there with our feelings that both tickle and roar within us. We fold up the joy and vitality to carry with us for darker times, to awaken from a psychic slumber, unfolding and returning to it when needed.

I have had many Moonfields come and go in my life; each providing great opportunities for capturing bliss and meaning – both vital to me. Take this newly found wisdom and go play in your Moonfield. Pay attention to the environment and be a part of the lessons woven within. The Moonfield exists in each of us; honor and celebrate your place in it.
Journal: Periwinkle

The Harrowing of the Soul: When to Stay and When to Keep Moving

The change of seasons – a time to welcome the next cycle with anticipation, honoring sacred rituals steeped in tradition and the passing down of old stories sprouted from intuition and ancient wisdom. The end of one cycle and the beginning of another invites us to unravel mysteries, face the unknown, achieving fierceness and awakening to tenderness.


However, in time I have formed a deeper connection with Our Mother, unearthing my wildish side and considering my very basic instinct. I have become intoxicated from seductive blossoms that invite me to touch, feel, smell and taste as if each time was the first. I am in awe of the finding and digging up of accidental treasure – roots and greens and buds and seeds. I bow to the healing power that lies quietly in Our Mother’s womb, waiting for the perfect time to emerge and offer miracles with little or no return. How much we can learn from Our Mother – the great teacher of humility, resilience, balance and forgiveness.

In parched fields carpeted with wilted grasses, along the banks of poisoned rivers, lakes and streams, under fallen trees in ravaged forests, we continue to seek the transformative fire. We gather together with our collective rage as it turns into sorrow before bringing us home to do our work. Through our wandering and taking back; we mustn’t get caught in the rage. Sometimes the healing begins with simple acknowledgement and other times it is hard and gritty. Often it hurts to see this truth, as it may lead to the harrowing of the soul.

As I return to Our Mother over and over again; I return to life. I sit under the sun amidst the harmony of winged creatures and give a tear to healing. I sit aching and drenched in the rawness of rain asking the obvious questions, longing for Her restitution.

We move from one cycle to the next; beginning and ending; living and dying, with hope lost and hope found. Knowing when we know and knowing when we don’t.

I thought I was fine with the coming of autumn, embracing the coolness in underlying shadows, yet in awe of the brilliant hue of death. However, the shiver under the cover of night was my reluctance to leave summer, when I reclaim and resurrect wholeness. With my hands in dirt; my inner life is in motion. I am authentic and instinctual, thriving and glimmering, and I find answers to my deepest questions.

Today it was warm. The rains came and summoned me to play under a pinkish gray sky, somewhere between the world of feeling and thinking. A transparent molted snake skin lying on top of the rich brown earth evoked the hunger. What needs to be shed or disposed of to stay in the wild creative flow? Am I willing to crawl out of my own skin to remain in that soul source? Nature knows that which needs to leave to make room for new life yet to be. You know when you know… when to stay and when to keep moving.
Journal: Babies Breath

The Tiny Black Key: Lost or Found

It kind of looks like a diary key, but might be too small. It’s made of metal and has a heart-shaped hole so that you can put it on a key chain. I know of nothing on the premises that has a lock small enough for it.


It showed up last night on the mahogany end table in the living room. There is nothing else on the table except for a white antique hobnail lamp.

I picked up the key and examined it. It reminded me of the first leather diary that I wrote in faithfully when I was a young girl. I wondered what happened to my dairies and hoped that they didn’t end up in the wrong hands.

I brought the key into my office where it sits on my desk. I thought of throwing it away, unlike all of the well intentioned, random buttons that I have placed in a neat line on the shelf in the bathroom.

I looked at the key again. What if something locked suddenly needs to be opened to reveal valuable treasure? I would have to fish around in the garbage for the key.

Does keeping it make me a hoarder? I do hold onto things that have served their purpose well beyond their intended use. I am apt to think that I might need it at a later time but rarely do. Then the time comes when enough is enough. I throw away all of those useless items that I saved so protectively. When I am in that mood; I have been known to discard things and regret it later. It’s a delicate balance.

The mystery was solved when I asked my daughter (who has been far and away) if she knew about the key. She told me that she found it on the sidewalk in California. So now someone 3,000 miles away might have to bust open her diary to make an entry, re-read mournful confessions and hopes for her future.

I think not.
Perhaps this tiny key of wisdom and compassion was there for my daughter to find and claim, bringing her home to unlock her deepest knowing, allowing her to open the door and peer into what her soul truly wants.

Sometimes it is not enough to be loved and supported, lost or found, exhausted and well travelled. Sometimes you need to find that tiny key on a busy, littered sidewalk… pick it up and hold onto it – the knowledge – the signal that says I can feel. I can return home and give my heart to the entire process.

I will not throw it away.
Journal: Periwinkle

The Prayer: Life After Hope

I have been away; here but away. Today I reclaimed my focus, returned to my passion and resumed my work. When I fall out of step with Our Mother; I lose my integral rhythm. This learning and navigating is a vital part of life cycles – the smaller ones within the larger ones. If I meet with a particularly jarring tempo; it may take longer for my pulse to return to where it needs to be. If I don’t already know how to maintain this balance; I learn.


There is value in everything. Once we filter through the source of the upheavals in our emotional, spiritual, physical and creative selves; we can find the knowledge within and transition from student to teacher. We discover, identify and process these changes as students and when we find the light and lesson that it carries; we become teachers.

This applies to all of the fluctuations that we experience, including the raw and messy ones; they usually present the most significant opportunities of all. The danger is when we ignore our feelings or instincts. When we deny them, we are denying personal growth and missing possibilities. It is when we become fully aware of ourselves that we begin to shape our experiences into useful tools – either for our own perceptions or how we relate to others.

I learned a long time ago to be careful of what you wish for (and pray for). It is important to be careful with the wording. This has been a hard lesson for me on more than one occasion. I learned. I pray carefully and with intent. I don’t bother with the rote prayers that hit the ceiling and fall on the floor. I am clear and thoughtful and never hasty.

If you have read my articles about “Traveling Kids”, you will know the intent of my prayer. It was ongoing in earnest for almost three years. It started out as a desperate prayer, but then I realized that desperation meant fear, and I did not want fear to reside anywhere within my being. Therefore, it was imperative that I release it. How do you do that? I was faced with a challenge, because simply verbalizing or meditating on it or even praying to let go of fear wasn’t enough. I had to learn how to release it myself. Of course you can ask for assistance but it is ultimately up to you to figure it out.

I had to rely on my own transformative efforts combined with Divine guidance. This was a multi-faceted, yet genuine task. I practiced trusting the universe and accepting that everything happens for a reason and as it is meant to. I also had to accept that each of us has our own destiny. So for me it boiled down to trust. It was necessary for me to also have clear boundaries between what was mine and what was not. When I made those boundaries, I often had bursts of rage. This maintained its own value within natural emotional cycles. I felt it, dealt with it, allowed it to fall and then released it as new energy.

As soon as I felt the vibrational pounding of fear at my door; I met it with determination. “Oh…it’s you.” I faced fear for as brief a time as possible, and allowed myself to be taught by it and then recited a mantra in my head repeatedly, taming it (the fear) before letting it go. My favorite mantra is, Sophia is the love that sustains me. (Sophia is the feminine face of God). I am deeply connected to the feminine through my years of studying the Gnostic Gospels and of course my wild nature.

This struggle with fear carried with it a possible threat to my entire being, not only the rhythms of my body, but all systems. I needed to resolve it. Within time, I learned how to trust God/ Sophia and the Universe and I devoted myself to my creative work and nature. I spent much time in solitude and prayer, and found solace in the gentle curves of Our Mother in the wild. I learned how to pray. I learned how to balance. I learned how to hope. I discovered that it was better to stop asking why and focus on what to do with it. I prayed with the highest intentions. I did not miss a day and sometimes prayed several times a day. I discovered that there is life after fear and anger.

About a month ago, my prayer was answered. I didn’t recognize it at first, but it started to reveal itself. It didn’t come free. It requires a great deal of patience and effort for the answer of this prayer to reach full maturity. I am grateful for the opportunity to work with Sophia. My prayers are now filled with gratitude. It takes conscious practice to transform our lives and others for the better of the whole. If we take one step at a time; we will not fall down. There is hope.
Journal: Periwinkle, Scarlett Lily