Simultaneously I see information on this Scorpio moon this week which supports the work we are doing, and I see the synchronicities everywhere I look. Blog posts, articles, quotes along the themes of self love, self acceptance, and releasing that which no longer serves us.
I wrote two letters.
One to my Self and my Body asking for forgiveness for any time I have thought or felt anything less than positive and loving towards it, and any time I have treated it in a poorer fashion than it deserves.
I asked for forgiveness and I too forgave myself and my body.
I ended the note with a love letter, telling it all the things it should hear and feel every day of my life.
The second letter I write to money; to cash.
I forgive money for anything at all that I might be holding on to, that I might need to release it - and myself - from. And I ask for forgiveness for every mean thought I have ever had about it, for any time I have blamed it for anything, thought it dirty or crass, shallow or not spiritual. For anything and everything that I need to apologise for. The energy of money is nothing but beautiful, but I haven't always been aware of that.
I end the note by loving her up - unconditionally - and inviting her into my life. Assuring her that she is so very welcome and I love her no matter what, and I always will.
This culminates a week of wooing myself, my body and money.
I have been clearing out the old stuff, in order to create solid foundations for our new relationship. From here on out I am committed to spending time with both myself (and my body), and with money. I will keep them close. I will give them attention. I will teach them that they can trust me to hold them safely and preciously. That I will appreciate them and love them, and welcome them wholeheartedly in my world. I will earn their trust. And in turn we will develop an intimate and caring and mutually beneficial relationship.
I go out into the garden and pick up a couple of small sticks, add them to the balled up receipts, and set the bowl down in the damp dewy grass.
The fire lights effortlessly.
I have had three nights of clear skies watching the moon, and last night she watched over me during Soul Art Day while I painted until 10:30pm, but tonight she toys with me behind the clouds - and I know that that is just fine.
And the light disappears. I am plunged into darkness.
It toyed with going to those old places but they moved past my awareness swiftly and I stayed with the knowing, with the faith. The utter trust that it was taken care of.
That beneath what I could see, all the amazing invisible stuff was happening.
During the darkest phase, I kept the faith.
I held on to the knowing that everything I was manifesting was already here, even if my senses could not yet detect it on the material plane.
I took the opportunity to take photos of not just the bowl, but myself too.
Would the faint light coming from the house show me?
I can just see myself there, smiling contentedly in the dark.
Not needing the light to hurry up and come.
Just absorbing the moment and taking the opportunity to look around instead of being transfixed by the flame like I had previously.
My bottom was becoming damp from the dewy grass I sat on in leggings.
It was still warm and I wasn't feeling remotely cold - one of the first warm nights we've had.
Someone somewhere has spent a merry evening at the pub and is singing, really really badly out of tune, as they walk home. It makes me smile.
I am not attached to the outcome of this ceremony.
I do not need it to go a particular way.
I detect not even the faintest glow inside that bowl of paper.
Yet I stay put in complete trust.
In companionship with myself and La Luna and the garden.
I cough then. Smoke. Lots of it. I am sitting directing in its path and decide not to move. My Moon Fire is smudging me. I waft it all around me and I cleanse myself in the smoke. It is as close as I can get to the fire without being harmed - being bathed in its smoke so that its smell clings to me.
Sure this might be a sign that something is happening in that bowl after all, but I don't even think of that. I love the symbolism of this dark phase, and as soon as I see the smoke envelope me and yet go nowhere else at all, I feel like it was meant to be. I cannot know what this quiet, still, dark period is for. I just trust that whatever needs to happen is happening. That it was a critical phase to the whole process. That it somehow took me closer to my dreams.
What a sense that I always knew it would happen, it appears before my eyes. Instantly and impressively. Seemingly from nothing...
Such a beautiful performance laid on for me.
When the flames died down, the bowl stayed hot for a very long time.
The only time in the whole ceremony that I felt impatient. In the end I got some oven gloves so that I could carry it back inside with me.
By morning it had cooled, and my letters had not transformed entirely into ash.
Rather, completely charred black papers. It's really quite beautiful.
And so it is.