Moonbeams in a Bucket
I celebrated the full moon on Sunday at the playground near my house. Soaring back and forth on a swing. Giggling. Watching her rise gloriously in the night.
That morning I had walked a labyrinth with a group of women, holding the intention of seeding the new energy that’s wanting to come into my life. Before entering the labyrinth we wandered in a nearby meadow on a hill with a tremendous view of the Rockies. We each asked the place to give us an object to carry and meditate on in the labyrinth.
Mine was unexpected. Not a pine cone, feather, or stone. A child’s toy. A colorful plastic bucket and trowel.
What an excellent toy. Masculine and feminine. A tool for digging up treasure, and a vessel to hold it. Sweet. Feeling pleased with my find, I stepped into the maze.
What surfaced in the labyrinth was a sense of the wild child within me seeking expression. The little me embodied in delight and utter freedom. Playful. Naïve. Spontaneous. Creative. Fearless. What fun! What a gift. What a relief to hear this asked of me.
And yet there is something in me that’s wary. That doesn’t like the idea. Ha! Of course there is. I know this part well. That familiar wet blanket in me that thinks wildness and innocence are way too risky. The lion tamer. The one who would keep everything tightly under control. Yes, this part of me will need some reassurance, as always. Okey dokey.
But the good news is: there’s something in me that came here to play…