Poor Monday. Even after retirement, it remains the ugly dog you’d like to love, but somehow can’t. Too many memories of weekends spent catching up, and Monday showing up waaay too early.
Today’s a lovely day — cool morning, crisp. The hairy woodpecker busy demolishing the seed cylinder, a murder of crows on the roofline next door, sounding just like their name. But it’s still Monday, and the baggage lingers, like washing white clothes w/ new blue jeans…
I should be fine — tonight I teach, which I adore. I’m probably meeting a writing friend before that, to look at a MS she’s getting ready to job. And I don’t have anything else on my calendar for a few days. How relaxed is that??
Unlike the work-a-day world, my Monday is my own, free to fill as I please, for the most part. So obviously I need to re-frame Monday, rescue the poor thing from the past, and look at it as its namesake: Lundi, or Moonday. It’s not a big moon night tonight, but that really doesn’t matter. Nor does the fact that it’s a waning moon, that other unfavourite.
For some reason, the waning phase of things — the moon, life — isn’t what we love best. We like things to be waxing: ripening, coming into fullness. Or perfectly in the middle, like a peach in July. Sweeter, it seems.
But the waning moon — and even Mondays — can be times to catch our breath, regroup. I seem to need more time for that these days. Perhaps it’s just that there have been a series of what Lemony Snickett would call ‘unfortunate events.’ More likely, I’m slowing down, waning.
That’s part of the schema, isn’t it? That my grandson is busting out, walking sturdily where a year ago he laid w/ large eyes of wonder, perfectly still. And I’m happy just to watch him on FaceTime, still thrilled at this unfolding, this waxing child.
Tonight marks the Autumnal Equinox, known as Mabon to my Wiccan friends. Like my own regrouping, it’s a time to harvest, giving thanks for the blessings of the earth, and asking for blessing during the upcoming winter.
This sounds, to me, like a perfect Monday activity. So here I am, grateful for my slow-paced autumnal life. Still scurrying at times, but mostly happy to be at the falling equinox. It’s peaceful, and a great way to reclaim this Monday.
If there were a labyrinth nearby I would walk it. Last year — almost 18 months ago — I had the opportunity to walk the reopening of the Sacred Garden labyrinth, in Maui. The three of us sharing it just lucked into the good fortune of it being a huge celebration. So with at least 70 or 80 others, I traced the path of the Chartres-based pattern, spiraling in then spiraling out. In the cool, green Maui night, it was magic.
That’s what I want for all my days, not only poor Monday. I want to be more aware of the mysteries around me, the days when lingering summer and upcoming winter balance perfect on the autumnal equinox. The beginning of a week still devoted to work, but not the kind I tend to get paid for.
Maybe if I look at Mondays as a walk through a labyrinth…? That kind of spiraling in & out…? What do you think?