I am on a holiday from serious, breakneck writing until after the holidays-but don’t quote me. My wordlessness has led me to the pursuit of the image in the other medium I enjoy, photography, as is evident here in this blog and at my other journal.
It feels good to say I am giving myself a break. I need this time until the end of the year to re-evaluate my direction and consider the work I have accomplished. I need to organize my files, let the work that is “out there” be decided upon by strangers, and take a moment to relish all that I accomplished in an emotionally trying year.
This year I lost my father and completed a book. I think I deserve to do whatever I feel like doing within the constraints of law and my own ethics, and contradict myself as well, if I feel like it.
So in the spirit of not working, I am working on a series of poems based on the names of the full moons. This has been a fun, light-hearted exercise. So far I have written poems for selected names of full moons for February, March, April, July and November.
There are numerous and varied full moon names, each given in accordance with the interpretations of the moon’s effect on individual cultures’ way of life, times of planting and harvest, seasons for the hunt, etc. I am learning a bit, but I haven’t done deep research. I’ve taken a cursory look at a few web pages (and the Farmer’s Almanac, too) that have lists of the names from different cultures and traditions, and brief texts descriptive of their meanings.
I want an un-muddled approach so, beyond a light understanding of the histories, I am letting the names themselves seep into my psyche and writing freely. Too, of course, I am observant of the moon itself and take it in in wonderment as all humans should.
The names of the moon are very poetic. Below are a few I have come across. These are not necessarily the names I have chosen. My process is a very subconscious, automatic approach.
I trust the moon will lead me to new visions.
Moon of the Terrible
Crane Moon
Worm Moon
Hungry Ghost Moon
Blood Moon
Moon When Trees Pop
Wolf Moon
Pink Moon
Bitter Moon
Moon When All Things Ripen
Moon of Horses
Aren’t they lovely?
Hi Clare, I think I saw the “Moon When Trees Pop” the other night in North Carolina. There were some houses that shouldn’t have been built there, but the leafless trees were full of “pop” and the evergreens stood silently by. It was glorious, and I was all alone.
Clare,
Inspirational. I too am considering slowing my writing pace. I want to assess where I am and how far I’ve come, while determining what I’ve lost along the way. Balancing my writing and my other, more mundane obligations, has me spinning. I love what you’ve written here. It’s a guidepost for me.
Thank you.
Mark
There’s poem in that!
Aww, thanks. It feels great to think I have inspired you. We need ourselves to be rejuvenated to approach our own creativity. The end of the year is a good time for reflection and completion…which will lead to new beginnings. The symbolism of a new year is not lost on me.
Oh Clare. I am so glad you wrote all this, that you took the time to think consciously about your writing process and your life and make a firm choice. I feel like I am in the same place, and it all has me spinning, too. I don’t want to give up writing, but I can’t seem to feel like I’m giving anything 100%–writing, teaching, mothering, wife-ing. I don’t want to give anything up, but I want to succeed in it all–all at once. I would like to take your notion of slowing down to heart.
Those moon names are wonderful. I’ll bet the research is interesting, too. Can’t wait to read your poems!
-Jill
Thanks Jill! Here’s a long reply!
I think giving myself permission to attend to my whole self and my inner needs is a giving me a great sense of relief. This feels good for my “overall” perspective and will be for the writing too. A big part of writing is actually *living* so that we can have something to write about!
Of course I will always write. I am a writer. I’m giving myself permission to not feel pressured about it. Just the thought of permitting myself a bit of a respite, is replenishing the joy I get from writing.
I have so much work that needs to be looked over, files that needs to be rearranged and submission tracking/follow-up that needs to be done as the end of the year approaches. I’m looking forward to organizing my writing life. It’s a good habit to get into.
I have a multitude of submissions out. I am fishing. I just have to wait for nibbles, bites and maybe a catch or two. Success always inspires and motivates. I’m going to give that work some time to do what it is going to do and not do any unsolicited submissions until the majority is decided upon.
December will be a good time to manage these things, enjoy the holidays and refresh my heart, mind and body. Part of my regiment will be to also cut back on caffeine which has been interfering with my mental wellness and my sleep patterns. I’m going to be a little more conscientious about my self-care and take time to reflect and meditate too.
We have a short vacation planned for Christmas and I will be bringing my laptop (no Internet) books and notebooks and I plan to use the time off to read and write for pleasure. I am writing out of love and not because it is required, so I need to keep it pleasure-centered. I’m thinking of this vacation as My Writing Retreat in the Winter Woods. If only I could have a break from cooking!
Those are great names, Clare, and I am sure the poems you write will be great, too. Take care and have fun over the holidays.
I think it is a lovely idea to work within a framework like that. A good few tears ago I did the same with a collection of stories on the senses. Of course, after the physical senses you go on to tackle things like a sense of reason, a sense of place, a sense of danger … you get the idea.
I did some research on moons a wee while back for a reworking of Little Red Riding Hood and I was struck then by the different – and poetic – names for the various cycles. I knew of the harvest moon before that but none of the others.
When I was a little boy, perhaps eight or nine, my dad got my brother and I up and led us outside to see the moon. It was red, not pink or redish but deep red. I’ve seen nothing like it since and I doubt I ever will. I guess it’s one of those once-in-a-blue-moon experiences.