Tonight a super pink moon. Thinking about back home and missing my name keeper and how things use to be when we had all the time in the world— No agenda, no need for expectations, or to go anywhere. We just had to be. During the cold winters we stayed inside and told stories and the hot hot summer when the sun went down we’d get out all the instruments (guitars, mandolins, tambourines) and just play into the night. After the ceremony, after the feast, after-after with anyone that was left. My Aunt Lois, Uncle Jim, my name keeper, my mom, but never my father. It would get so late, sometimes I would fall asleep under the table. All I would hear is laughter and that was comforting to me. Often times it was about silly things that meant everything in the world in our house at 2am, like farting in tune or getting the smudge stick to cover up the rancid scent. How important these times are.
Today I burned this sweetgrass (see pic below) during the super pink moon morning and smiled. I am grateful for the motley crew of a village of people I grew up with.
**Pink Super Moon INFO***