Like Moontime, But Not

We just had a full moon and a lunar eclipse. In a few days, we reach summer solstice. The days are long and bright. The veil is thin.  There is so much to notice, it is difficult to concentrate on any one thing. Usually when I feel like this, it is because my body is defragging, at more or less the same time each month. This time, I have the same strange vivid unfocusedness, but without the pain and the fog. Might the cosmos be defragging? It's possible.

The energy is building up like the finale in a fireworks show, burst overlapping burst.

Over here on one side, I am recalling my lovely dream in which I embraced a young cleric, from Africa I think, and told him namaste and meant it. Such mutual sweetness, transcending everything we held that was both different and dear to us.

Over there on the other side of the sky, another great burst of sparks! The word samaritan. I always loosely translated it as 'none of the above', the way the Samaritans seem in the Bible. In other words, Pagan. I even saw a cartoon once where the Good Samaritan looked like a Hell's Angel. Yet Christians use the word for themselves in Samaritan's Purse and Good Samaritan Church of Wherever. This concept has long annoyed me, so I looked into it further to see if I was right. (OK, OK, I checked Wikipedia.)

Well, it turns out we were both off the mark. It wasn't so much Pharisees vs. Heathens as it was Hatfields vs. McCoys or Spy vs. Spy. Samaritans are and were on the Abrahamic spectrum. I sit corrected.

Above those sparkly thoughts, another one booms: my loved ones and the things they need: health, reassurance, relief from years of whatever has been tormenting them. I remember. I look for ways to be helpful. But mostly I remind myself that the sun will come up every day without my assistance. What is in me, who is in me, is in everything that lives. She loves me, loves when I live life earnestly and fully, because she is life; she does not, however, involve me in every last decision she makes.

There is much more exploding in my brain in far more than 'the' four directions. Infinite directions, that's more like it, but you'd never get done with the beginning of your ritual.