There is a reason why traditionally people would go outside and bang pots and pans at the time of an eclipse to scare the shadow away. These moments of alignment between Earth, Sun and Moon always have an uneasy feel for me. There is a little chaos out there, as things that are usually predictable and reliable lose their way for a little while.
This morning's total eclipse of the Moon was no different. I couldn't see any of it as the English weather was set to cloudy. But I could feel it just as strongly. A sense of dread crept across me, as the shadow of the Earth crept across the face of the Moon.
I had planned my morning rite as a kind of cleansing ceremony. I would meditate on the things that hold me back and then allow them to be wiped away as the shadow was wiped from the Moon. But as I sat there, as I let the feelings of unease grow, the images that came to me brought another kind of healing. As I looked into the shadow, I saw myself looking back.
What I could see were parts of myself that I find hard to look at. A skeletal body filled with pain. Snarling, snapping, biting anger. A shivering lack of courage. And the gaping chasm of fear. One by one these images came. One by one I recognised them as a part of me. Part of the whole picture of me, an imperfect but beautiful human being.
I couldn't wipe away the pain, because it is part of my body and part of its language. Its pain is speaking to me, telling me something. So is my anger, and my fear. Even my lack of courage shows me where my boundaries are. All these things speak to me of who I am, and are part of the particular beauty of me as a human being. These things represent the most vulnerable parts of me. And they uniquely make me who I am.
The shadow on the Moon taught me about my own shadow. The things I find hard to look at in myself each carry a precious gift of wisdom, if I take the time to listen. If I turn towards what is uncomfortable and do not look away. These shadow parts are essential elements in the whole tapestry of me. I need to accept and love them as part of the whole. I have never quite felt this truth so clearly before.
So as the shadow passed, and the Moon could shine brightly again, I sat and made peace with these parts of me. I gently held them all and cradled them in love. As I found strength in that love, I cradled those hurts in the world that are caused by people fighting those same vulnerabilities. Fighting shadows causes so much pain, and is about as effective as banging pans at an eclipse. Holding them, and accepting all of who we are, brings peace.
A few weeks ago, I watched a TED talk that said pretty much the same thing. Accepting our vulnerability as part of who we are, as something that makes us worthy of love rather than something to feel ashamed about, is a big step towards happiness.