The Waning Crescent Moon: The Necessary Emptying

There is very little light left in the night sky.

The Moon as passed her last quarter and is thinning now, night by night, toward darkness. The waning crescent is the final phase befor the lunar cycle begins again with the New Moon.

It would be easy to look at that disappearing light and see loss.

Nature tells a different story.

Things die back. Plants drop what they cannot sustain. Gardens go dormant. Old growth becomes material for new growth. Seeds wait in darkness. Nothing in nature produces continuously.

And yet, somehow we expect ourselves to.

Perhaps the waning moon isn't asking us to become less. Perhaps it is reminding us that making room is part of making.

The Necessary Emptying

I've been thinking about that a LOT lately.

My body and I are currently having a disagreement.

In my head, I can still do all the things I've always done. I can work. I can build. I can make things. I can carry the heavy shit. I can take care of the people who need me.

I know exactly what needs to be done.

And lately my body has been answering.

No the fuck you can't.

That is INCREDIBLY frustrating.

I've spent most of my life being the helper. It's part of who I am. When something goes wrong, I don't naturally look around for someone to take care of it. I take care of it.

Now there are moments when I have to ask someone else for help with things I know perfectly well how to do.

There is a particular kind of helplessness in that.

I'm learning that there is also a difference between being unable to do something and not knowing how to do it. My mind hasn't forgotten. My ideas haven't stopped. The part of me that wants to create, work, help and move hasn't gone anywhere.

Right now, my body simply can's always keep up with her.

Lately, my own body has been teaching me this lesson rather insistently. I've found myself measuring days differently–not by everything I manage to accomplish, but sometimes by the moments when the pain quieted enough for me to be still. For someone accustomed to working, making, moving and caring for others, that kind of surrender doesn't come naturally. I'm beginning to understand that rest isn't necessarily something that happens after the work is finished.

Sometimes, rest is the work.

I don't have a beautiful lesson to offer about that yet.

I'm still in it.

I don't know exactly what is happening with my body or what the road back will look like. I'm doing what needs to be done to find out.

But underneath all of that is one question I keep coming back to:

How do I get back to being the helper?

Perhaps there are seasons when the work isn't pushing forward.

Perhaps sometimes the work is allowing things to become quiet enough that we can hear what comes next.

The waning crescent doesn't ask the Moon to shine harder.

It simply lets the light go.

From the Apothecary : Vetiver

For the waning crescent, I keep coming back to Vetiver.

Vetiver is a grass, but its aromatic treasure lies underground in its dense network of roots. The essential oil distilled from those roots is deep, earthy, woodsy and unmistakable.

There is something beautifully appropriate about that for this part of the lunar cycle.

When the visable things are diminishing, we return to the roots.

When everything above ground seems quiet, that doesn't mean nothing is happening beneath the surface.

And something being rooted is enough.

Explore Vetiver in Northern Prairie Botanicals Apothecary

A Waning Crescent Moon Bath Ritual.

This one doesn't require an alter, seventeen crystals or an elaborate list of things you're suppose to release.

Run a warm bath.

Lower the lights. Light a candle if you want one. Put the phone somewhere you can't mindlessly reach for it.

For this waning moon, I'm blending intuitively with Blood Orange, Clary Sage, Ylang ylang, Black Spruce and Vetiver.

Blood Orange brings a last little flash of brightness. Clary Sage and Ylang ylang soften the center. Black Spruce brings the forest in. Vetiver takes everything down into the earth.

If you'd like to use aromatics in your own bath, use a properly formulated bath product made for dispersing essential oils safely in water rather than adding undiluted essential oils directly to the bath.

Then get in.

And do nothing for a while.

No journaling assignment. No list. No requirement to figure your life out before the water gets cold.

When you're ready, ask yourself one question.

What can I put down––for now?

Not forever.

Just for now.

Maybe an answer comes. Maybe it doesn't.

When you're finished, pull the plug. Watch the water disappear. If there is something you've decided you don't need to carry tonight, let it leave with the water.

And remember:

You don't have to solve anything before you get out.

The Moon will become dark.

And then, when it's time, the light will return.