The Harvest Moon arrived today.
The harvest moon is the full moon that lands in closest proximity to the autumnal equinox. It turned perfectly ripe and full this morning, just before the sun rose to greet the day. I felt her energy from the moment my eyes opened. If you’re here on my blog, you likely know what a moonchild I am, and this banter is not unfamiliar.
In celebration of my favorite full moon of the year, I went to my divine teacher Melanie Salvatore-August‘s yoga class this morning.
We said our usual hello and then, just before the commencement of class, we brushed shoulders and locked eyes. Doing a more thorough, wordless check-in, we sized one another up. We have a way of communicating metaphysically; I love when I meet people who can transmit with me on this level. Mel is like this with everyone, though, she’s a healer. A healer with a divinely intuitive gift.
“You seem whole,” she said to me. Conviction registered in her radiant features. She said it not as a question but as a statement. An affirmation.
Truer, more validating words have not recently been spoken. My beautiful teacher and soul sister, Mel, hit the nail on the head. As she so often tends to do.
It honestly hadn’t dawned on me in that particular sense, until she spoke the words. I have felt full, increasingly whole, more and more complete with each passing day…I know I observed this in myself…I’m certain I was cognizant of it…but was I really? Or did it just sink into me, did I just become full, did it just meld right into the rhythm of what it is to be me in my life, day-to-day? Did it manifest without my declaring it as being so? Did I suddenly come into wholeness just like my beloved moon did, this morning before sunrise?
Looks like it!
Well, I’m not complaining. I just find it so interesting that here I am, feeling whole (a huge part of my intention and journey in this life, mind you), and I didn’t even get to throw a party over it. No frilly lace, no bells and whistles. I feel like in coming into wholeness I ought to have garnered some sort of celebratory spiel. But no. It just became. And everything about the way it just became is so perfect, so incredibly divine, so exactly how it should have gone down.
I think it speaks immensely to growth as well as vairagya, non-attachment, when one needn’t celebrate every step of the journey. Now, notice I didn’t say one shouldn’t celebrate every step of the journey…I didn’t say that at all. But when one needs to celebrate every step in order to feel validate in said step…that’s where resistance accumulates. Celebrating for the simple pleasure of celebrating…that’s the marrow. That’s where the sweet stuff lives. That’s growth.
I only know how whole I feel because I’ve felt fragmented. I’ve been completely shattered. One cannot know wholeness without knowing shards of split glass on the floor, because they are one. One allows for the other and they exist together. I’ve been partially put together, too; flimsily relying on glue and scotch tape to stay together, my reinforcement transparent, my resolve wavering. I’ve been mostly full, at least on the fuller side of the “glass is half full.” I have felt the quivering of the surface beneath me threaten to shake my glass and let it all come sloshing out uncontrollably.
Now I have felt whole. Full. Complete. And it feels a whole lot less dramatic than any of the steps it took to get here! It feels calmer and more dignified than I’d expected, because I’d grown accustomed to the chaos of emotion. Whole is calm. Whole is supple. Whole is unflustered.
Who’d’ve thunk it?!
Now for the best part…just when you thought I was getting all braggy, all “I’m so whooooole,” on you…I’m here to tell you, whole is a spot on the map. It’s a stop on the journey. That’s all this is, this whole “living” thing that we’re doing. A series of stops on a (hopefully) long, enjoyable journey. Whole might seem like the destination, but it’s really just a very important stop. A stop in which to stay a while, grab a tea, hunker down into the wholeness and observe it…study it…learn it.
In learning it, we are able to bottle it up, stuff it into our pockets and trace it into our memories. We’re able to imprint it in our being so that, when the glass is rolling round on its side, empty and drenched in its own contents, we can return to what it felt like to be whole…and then we can reassemble ourselves and collect the droplets that have scattered.
We are always whole. Even when we’re empty, we’re whole. It’s important to recognize when we’re feeling whole; it’s not egoistic, it’s crucial. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say it’s of essence to notice when you’re feeling whole, to bask in gratitude for that, and then to immerse yourself in the study of this archetype of wholeness. Wholeness comes to us in many forms, learn those forms. Learn to observe yourself in whatever state of fullness you’re in, even if you’re cup’s gone and rolled right off the table, shattering in a mess of water on the floor.
That’s okay. Because you know what? You will pick all the pieces up. You’ll quiver behind the scotch tape and glue, eyes darting around nervously…then you’ll teeter, rocking to and fro; feet dancing to gain balance and equilibrium, water threatening to slosh right over your edges…then finally you will come back into fullness. Wholeness. And you will say, ah yes, I’ve been here. I’ve been here and I’ll be here again…