Miganna (Me-Gan-nah)

Alisa Muñiz Blanchard
Copyright 2013 all rights reserved. No part of this text may be used without permission.

The journey started when the moon was dark, I often have visions of her coming into my womb and crying into it, filling me with her tears. My connection with the moon at times is very intense, as I am a full moon bleeder. This month when I went to greet my blood and the full moon, I realized she didn’t come this time for me, but rather stayed nestled in the layers of my womb.

I wake in the middle of a crisp September night, there is this pull I have to get up and go outside. The sudden movement makes me dizzy and I feel foggy as I look for socks and a sweater to keep me warm.

The room is dark as I fumble, lit only by the dim light from the electronics charging on the night stand. Besides me on the bed sleep my partner, daughter, 2 dogs and our cat. It is like a slumber symphony in the deep breaths each makes, some grunts and purring. I try to move quietly so I do not wake the dogs, one of which who suckles in her sleep like an infant. The rough pads of her feet rub against my arm as I attempt to put my sweater on gracefully. She is under the covers, her 65 pound self snuggled in like a child.

As I head out of the cozy den I hear the cat get up and stretch, I freeze not even breathing willing the dogs to not even notice. Only to realize the cat is moving to occupy my spot before my daughter does.

Silently I walk to the bathroom and empty my screaming bladder, which I hadn’t noticed until standing up. I briefly rinse my hands and leave the bathroom without flushing the toilet. Down the stairs I creep, walking on the edges of the steps holding myself up on the railing and wall, almost suspended over the stairs, so as to avoid the creaking of the boards.

Downstairs I know I am able to breathe more deeply as I gather provisions for what has become clearer as the fog of sleep vanishes: a moon bath. When I get to the door I realize I have to move the chimes on it so they to not ring, alarming the dogs. Grabbing a blanket I wrap the chime and carefully take them down and open the door, stepping out I close it behind me.

I walk out into the yard I thinking to myself I should have brought a flashlight or lantern as I stumble: I notice there is no moon light. Quickly discovering I am missing my moon this month for she did not rise tonight.

Suddenly I hear singing of what sounds like a circle of women soft in the distance. There is a buzz which comes from a gathering of women that will pull you close or push you away depending on your intentions. It is clear this circle is waiting for me.

There because this ease as I walked toward them, through the woods behind my home. I could see their laughter and songs light up my path. As I approached I noticed a very small fire, which seemed silly on this brisk night noticing all the wood around to use. But I didn’t dare say this, as I noticed all the women wore harvest colors but one who is dressed in black, with what looks like light coming from under her cloak.

Women come to either side of me and whisper in my ear, I am not sure what they are saying but know I am being asked to enter the circle and got to the woman in black. As I approach her I can see she is as old as one can be, she reaches out to me with her crooked fingers with a gesture to come closer.  Her hand prods my side until she finds my left hand, her boney fingers reminds me almost of talons, they are sharp and firm, neither warm or cold.

Standing in close proximity I smell a mixture of decaying earth, citrus and something I can only describe as ocean. She shakes and moves me to a table and chair. There seems to be some understanding I am to climb on the table and lay down. The crone sits beside me and places her hands on my chest and womb, it seems that suddenly I am a portal, vessel, receiver (?) of ancient stories. My mind fills with images, sounds, colors, smells, textures, almost like a stop action video.

I see myself: in huts, crouched to the ground; in grand palaces on a bed; in kitchens; woods; at the ocean; in caves; landing to one place: I am sitting by a small fire in a cave or perhaps some other area with a large rock in front of me. Around me there is some singing as I sit in a chair with an opening for my blood to flow. A crone takes the bowl of blood from under me and goes to the wall and begins to paint with my blood. It is a scene of the full moon by the ocean with what looks like an estuary which seems to stop flowing into the ocean, and pour back into the bowl the grandmother holds. It almost looks as though the moon light and ocean waters are mixed into a stream filling the bowl. I hear myself gasp.

There is a narrative playing over the visions which speaks to me about the moon and the discoveries which unfold in this time of dark moon. I whisper “It’s the dark moon already?”

A voice answers back “No, not for you. You will have no moon.”

“Won’t I miss my moon if she doesn’t rise?” As I say the words I feel naïve and slightly confused.

On my belly there is a cool breeze and it moves me from my visions into the present. The crone woman is standing there with what looks like the same bowl from my dreams; it seems to have a luminescence to it, or perhaps bioluminescence. The crone dips her hand into the vessel and uses her stick fingers to paint on my abdomen the moon and heavens and the ocean below.

She whispers “you are the keeper of the moon and ocean this cycle. It is time.”

Above me are a million sun seeds which fall like rain onto my belly. I am glowing as I get up from the table. I look around, the women all seem to have a knowing look in their eyes, almost as though this tingling within me is reflected back with the twinkle in their eyes. 

The fire has gone out, or so it seems, but yet I feel radiant warmth blanket me. The same light which peaked out from the crone’s cloak and the bowl shines from my abdomen. When I look down behind the scene which was painted I see a small fire burning in my womb, the skin cold from the sea water protecting the moon while she slept. There was nothing else to do in that moment but sit and watch, awestruck my breath slowed… into a lullaby of life and my heart fell into time with the heartbeat of the earth.

This was creation and it was being born in me, calling me to steward its growth and nurture its path. I was not resigned but rather assigned by the universe to accept and be in the throws of ecstasy; I received my task with humbled reverence and joy filled trust.

The words come to me “sun seed taking root.” I smile and walk home, the path illuminated but the light growing within.

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