Here in North America, Indigenous people tell us the name for the full moon in February is the Snow Moon, or the Hunger moon.
Yesterday we had what New Jersey folk call a snow storm, and while it was a bit blustery, for this Canadian, 4 inches of snow is hardly a storm. Still, it seems auspicious that today the garden is softened and muffled in white. The sun is reflecting off the snow, bringing a wash of bright hope into the house.
But it’s cold and icy out there. Best to stay inside if one can. It’s winter…a time of going inwards when we are invited to introspection.
I’m a winter person. In Quebec, where I was raised, we say “My country is not a country, it’s winter.” Mon pays c’est ne pas un pays, c’est l’hiver. I long for cold days and long nights. They’re in my marrow and my blood. It’s the time when this bear can go into her cave and hibernate, dreaming and connecting with the earth and with my soul. It’s the time for telling stories, too. Some stories, I was told by an Ojibwe elder, cannot be told until the snow is on the ground since the spirits of the stories are occupied at other times, doing the work the Creator intended them to do, and mustn’t be disturbed. Now, the stories come to us.
This particular moon has significant power, as it comes with a lunar eclipse and a comet. Busy up there in the heavens these days, as it is on earth. So perhaps we can take this moment to deepen our connections, to meditate and dream. Who knows what we’ll come up with?
A few of us (me included) have been feeling a bit creatively blocked, due in large part to the crazy political atmosphere, and all the negativity swirling around the world. Might I suggest we use the energy of this “Hungry” moon to contemplate what it means to be truly hungry? Imagine not having enough to eat. Think of the deer, pawing at the ground in search of something green. Imagine the mice who haven’t had snow to burrow under until now, and must be cold (unless they’re in your basement!) Imagine the refugee, the homeless, the prisoner. Are we hungry for justice? For mercy? For creative energy?
The world looks different under a blanket of snow. What’s hidden? What’s revealed? There is a purity to all this white, and yet the grey-blue shadows seem like figures in a sacred montage. What are they saying to you?
Tell me what you see, what you dream, what stories come to you….