Chop wood, carry water. According to an old Zen parable, this is what we do before enlightenment. And it's what we do afterward. In other words: Enlightenment is no big deal. The small rituals that sustain life are as important as our bigger dreams. This is especially true at the waning moon. It's time to slow down, move wisely, paring down effort to the essentials. I like to think the old Zen masters knew this, too, practicing enlightenment of the lunar kind.
At the waning moon: Chop wood. Literally. Logs that won't burn (filled with sap) have been cut at the wrong moon time. When the moon wanes, life force draws underground, into the roots, into the earth. Sap descends. The wood in trees is drier during a waning moon, and therefore better for burning. Fruits are less juicy and good for canning (they won't spoil as quickly). Your body is dry, retaining less fluid; a good time for detoxing. So, carry water--and drink it!
|Especially in the fourth quarter, we should rest, contemplate, dream.|
After the moon is full, her light diminishes each night to finally disappear altogether. According to gardening wisdom, it's during these two waning weeks that the earth withdraws also, taking energy into herself, away from aboveground things. Is this a "force" of the moon? Or a natural like-mindedness?
I suspect the earth knows a good idea when she sees one. After the new moon, she'll begin her long exhale, sending energy outward to strengthen growing things. But now she wisely goes inward, balancing out-breath with in-breath. To follow the natural rhythm, we should bring our projects to completion after the full moon and avoid starting new ones until the next cycle begins. Especially in the fourth quarter, we should rest, contemplate, dream.
We could start by recognizing there are some things we don't want to grow. Mow your lawn on a waning moon, and it won't grow back so fast. The same applies to weeds--and fingernails. If you want your haircut to last, schedule your appointments at the waning moon; your hair will grow back more slowly. Trim trees and bushes, too. Because their sap is low, plants lose less energy. Surgeries can be less traumatic. There's less blood loss; healing will accelerate once the new moon arrives.
We might say that all these activities are a way of taking care of life by letting some of it go--knowing when to slow down and throw away, when to cease acquiring and nourish what is there. Without this knowledge, life exhausts itself and can't go on. Leading to things abandoned, overgrown, tired, and falling apart.
I think the waning moon chose the morning sky for good reason. From there she can watch over how we start our day--when we most need the encouragement to mind what's going on. Chop wood, she says. Carry water. Clean out a junk drawer, a corner of your garage. Find yourself in the quiet details. Go inward. And take care.
Dates for this month's waning moon: August 15-29.