Blood Moon And The Power Of The Feminine

​Does it not seem coincidence that there is three.
A triple power vibration.
A murmur, a rumble, a drone.
Earth and sun and moon.
Maiden. Mother. Crone.

And blood.  

Last night we went hunting for the total eclipse of the moon. We could not see it from our home, so loaded into the car to drive above the town and into the open fields of upper Ojai.  We were not alone. Other cars dotted along the side of the road against a field. One man had set up a telescope, another couple sat in beach chairs and I wondered if they had wine with them as they gazed up into the clouds. For there were many clouds.

At first. 

The side of the sky away from the moon was bright and the stars were clear in our eyes. But the moon, it was hidden by the clouds. At first. And by the earth. Both. 

But in just a short time, minutes that felt like seconds but longer, too, the earth’s rotation moved enough to let just a sliver of the sun hit against the moon. And at that same time, the clouds were gone. Just like that. 

And with just this bit of light against the moon we were able to see that subtle wash of color that is the blood moon. Not as red and rich as I have seen in other years, but still a suggestion that this was no ordinary moon.

And we watched, for just a bit, this slow transformation from blood to light. And then returned home while the brilliance grew larger still until the super blood moon eclipse became just a moon again. Bright in the night sky, making the darkness seem almost like day. 

I woke up many times last night. And each time took a moment to check on the moon. It was clearly visible now. Our earth had moved enough that the moon was no longer hidden behind the mountain that our home rests against. But instead hung bright white over us.

And I thought about the pull of the tides and the cloak of land and dirt and shadow when earth aligns with moon and sun, a triplicate that sends a wash of blood to the surface of the moon. 
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