Phases: A New

​Seconds by seconds, to minutes, stacking into hours, it weighed. 
The unsettling feeling sitting in my belly bulged. Worn down and out was my soul.
Expressionless in the faces of coworkers and friends, yet full of emotions, doubts, and peculiar thought. In regard to social circumstances, I fell exhausted. 
 Pitted brown eyes, I could not define happiness for self-assurance, but could someone tell me how heavy is the moon tonight?

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She was approaching fast, the new moon, according to trusted science and my intuitive roommate. February 15th, 2018, to be exact. Less than 24 hours away.
 Now, I don’t practice astrology, nor do I go reading the stars on the brightest of nights but if you can agree that everything in the Universe is in you and you are everything in it as well, then bear with me for a while. 
Yin-yang, dark-light, moon-sun, woman-man, these are some of life’s balances. 
What is the nature of a woman? She lives by the the moon. Cycles, phases, old to new, transforming every day.
A new moon, the first of any, represents new beginnings, a slate free of finger printed ideas. A time to let go of toxic habits, attitudes, and feelings in our baggage claim. A moment of release of the tethering’s of life.
What am I holding onto? What’s so heavy in my bag, unwinding my stitches at the seam? 
A moment of honesty needed to be had in privacy with self.
“Your mind and heart are not heavy for no reason, my love. Walking around with your neck barely supporting your head, eyes hanging heavy with someone’s grief you need to wash yourself of.” The voice in my head is never unwarranted.
Paraphernalia can only dig the hole so deep, it all will still be waiting at the bottom when the cup is empty like the salt of the sand in water.
I was never actually honest, just good to myself. You do just enough to make it all seem pleasantly worth it. You laugh just loud enough to drown out sorrow, stuff your mouth with food so you don’t have to speak on it. 
12 hours until her beautiful full face hit the skies. I was still trapped in the box I sealed.
“Write it down, release, burn, live on,” was the advice I was given by my roommate as part of a practice performed usually for new moons. No witchcraft or mystic spirits involved.
 An energetic connection with nature and willingness to be present.
Take your transgressions, doubts, impulses– turn them into action by stating what you will allow and are willing to change. Break them down into lists categorized by well-being, love and intimate struggles, career, financial stability, and so forth as needed.
Shed these energies and ways of being by speaking it not just knowing it but regurgitate back to recognize what is really in front of you. Release by burning the written. Leave nothing but ashes, go forward a new.
Late in the night, she was there in the sky. A new moon, beaming and perfect as the only force visible.
I had my list and it was quite detailed with forgiveness from the damage I’ve caused in relationships, healing from toxic ideas I brought to the table, as well as affirmations to guide me from the place I stood with no direction. 
The hardest part was speaking it all aloud, with every breath came some tension corralling in my chest. Yes, it was cold that night, but I couldn’t feel it in the moment.
It was quite literally, energy moving out of me, that’s my only explanation.
I felt myself relive the times as I spoke about them, touching familiar sentiments one last time and doing away with in the wind that carried my voice.
I laughed at the idea initially because it seemed so elementary, read and burn, like secret notes in history class. Nevertheless, I burned three lists under the natural light that seemed to grow evermore luminous with the passing of the night.
There was no magic when I left her sitting in the sky, but I knew there was something reformed. A weight from my head and heart allowed for a new open window.

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