Day 672: Noses, Teeth and Moons

Me and Eduardo, who runs where I live

So much rich bliss in this time. Yesterday's blood moon full eclipse bonanza of beauty and wonder was a sweet culmination of a week full of magic. Seven of us sat by the old maloka kitchen in the gardens of my beautiful temporary home with a fire, guitars, soup and songs. There were beloved people from Peru, Chile, Mexico, England, and the USA. We laughed a lot and sang a lot and cooed a lot at the incredible red-white-black moon, the shimmering stars, the fickle clouds and the fullness of the beauty.

A wonderful ceremony, which included my first ever (but hopefully not my last) luchadora-masked, dancing shaman, gave me back the gift of gratitude more than ever before. Long or short, this needs to become a daily practice again. There is so very much to give thanks for, from the taste of broccoli and green bean soup (I cannot help but think of you, Kath Jones) to the fact that I can see my sweet soul-sister's face for a flit of a second as she walks through Easton and I sit in my mountain-shouldered garden to the simple nourishment of that. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the ground I get to walk on and the people who dance across my path, while we love each other richly and when we struggle too. Thank you for the wisdom and generosity of my friends, and for the guidance that they offer. And thank you, love and gratitude itself.