From the quantum perspective,
all matter in the universe (multiverse, rather)
is essentially a collection of sound-frequency-vibration.
So to make effective change in the universe,
we must meet it at its base structure,
Resonant intentional hypnotic harmonics,
utilizing the internal instrument
of our voices to induce awakening.
This is how we rock it.
~Miss Ascentia, 2012, We’Moon
 Go ahead, breathe a deep sign, a long letting go of waiting for Life to sing in colors again, Aaaah . . . letting out our waiting for the danger point to pass. Now we know we’re going to make it! On this day Earth is in balance between dark and light. With luck, the way forward has roots tough enough to make it through to leaf and bloom and fruit this year.
What if . . . ? Do you have the will for spring if ice and snow won’t let up, if climate extremes bring your tower of expectations tumbling down? We are all challenged now to find balance between dark and light, to find a way for Life to win no matter what.
Rebirth magic: Take an egg, dye it red, deepen the color with your womb blood (or energy of your wise crone blood). Go out on the land; ask nature spirit to take your sweet sacrifice and turn it into a medicine blissing for all lands, all peoples everywhere. Bury the egg as a seed of Hope.
~Miriam Dyak, We’Moon
quiet mind, i am divine
in this body of earth
i carry the wild inside me
~Marissa Evans, We’Moon
A large cloud swirls
the uncertainty of spring so vast
it swarths the sun.
For millions o years on Earth
plants existed
endless varieties
of leaf and stem
and then one morning
114 million years ago,
it happened—
an incredible burst
of fragrance and color
the first flower.
Swollen and aching
like twig ends
all of us know the longing
to let go
to open, to blossom.
It stirs within each of us
call us to grow
beyond our limitations
tells us there is more
tells us we are more
we are able to give
Water lotus flower blossom
what is needed
we can undo
the grip of fear
out-love
the harshness of anger.
Will we take our next step?
The large cloud swirls
spring’s uncertainty so vast
it swaths the sun.
Against this marbled sky
a peach tree reaches
her tender twig ends swollen.
A robin sings.
~Cathy Casper, We’Moon
I boldly take up
the shadows,
wear them
like midnight silk,
honor them
for their part in me.
~Nell Aurelia, We’Moon
photo by: Alexey
   There is a rest in brokenness. You lie on that ground, unable to function as you did before. So you lie there. There are no more ‘shoulds’ because the luxury of self-recrimination was taken from you when you fell and broke to pieces on the earth below. ‘Cannot’ doesn’t matter now, either. All that exists in this moment is ‘What Is Now.’ This. And there is beauty in the brokenness. It i a beauty of constellations in the scars, of tides in the tears, the heat of fire in the bleeding of you. In the abrupt quiet that follows an unexpected injury, a sacred silence fills you. And because there is nothing let in you that can create, push, force, be, or drive into, there is a blessed empty space, to be filled by something other than all the crazed and busy thinking, the manic achieving, the over-scheduled hours. This blessed, beautiful brokenness is the prayer that summons the spirit, calls forth the angels, lays us down gently. In these seasons of humble brokenness, we are opened, utterly. There is no protecting yourself here. This is the stripping away of ego-driven, striving conception. Let there be grace. Let there be mercy. Allow the broken places to show you their beautiful rest.
The broken stick on the forest floor is the branch who earned her rest. I bless the stick. I bless the branch. I bless the rest.
~Sarah LaRosa, We’Moon
Does the rose deny,
Disown, her exquisite beauty
Because of some thorns
Her nature carries?
Tell me, my friend.
Do you?
~Renee Hummel, We’Moon
   I am Hygieia, Goddess of Health and Healing.
Not so very long ago people revered me and danced, dreamed and prayed with passionate fervor in my name.
And now? My sister called me up yesterday, “Hey girl have you noticed how people are using your name these days? Check out this link.”
Hmmmm…Hygiene. Sleep hygiene. Sleep hygiene rules. A list of rules in my name. Do this, this and this. Do not do that, that or that. Hygiene: antiseptic, clean, controlled, sterile, sanitized. They’ve named damn sleep hygiene rules after me that don’t even seem to work because sixty million people in the United States alone can’t sleep!
Let me remind you who I really am. I am Hygieia, Goddess of Health and Healing. I lived for centuries with my twin sister Panacea in the temples of our father, Asclepius, the doctor god. People traveled for weeks to our mystery rites to dance, pray and sleep among the priestesses and serpents, They came seeking guidance, miracles and transformation, awakening in the morning reborn, eager to face life with new vigor and vision. Our temples await you each night. You may enter any time.
Let’s go back even further, before the time of Asclepius: I am Hygieia, left breast of Rhea, Great Mother of All Beings. As we roam the earth’s sea islands and deep forests and vast plains, life-giving fluid pours from us–healing, soothing, nourishing and revitalizing.
Sleep with us and be reborn into eternal kinship with all creatures. Sleep with us in the temple of breast, mountain, ocean, belly. Savor here the messy, rich, potent sleep of body and earth. It is not a regulated, sterilized sleep. You will not find it in a sleep lab. It may just be the sleep your restlessness longs for.
~Lea Bayles, We’Moon
I shall make an Unholy mess
and scatter my imaginings
with powders and pigments
on a brush
of witch’s brew beginnings.
~Marie Rains, We’Moon
sure she’s a little
different always was
the smallest kid in her class
looks into things
the way a needle slides
clean through scarlet silk
climbed a roof once
where the stars shot gold
into her sixteen years
I’ve heard her sing
on a stage with no one
able to reach her voice
she’s pepper on bread
she’s rain in December
she’s hair that curls beyond curl
catch her dancing
some silent Sunday:
she’ll spin your blood to joy
~Katharyn Howd Machan, We’Moon
Beautiful sensual women with white horse
Mid-Level-Culture 