Relocating my self and my moon circles from Sweden to England, and becoming a radio tower.

As a blogger currently residing in Brighton, I’m proud to say that the foundation of this post has been drafted sitting in the window seats of a café, sipping an oat cappuccino like a proper Brightonian. The sun has pried me out from between my bedroom walls where I already spend most my days working from home. I’ve been in Brighton for almost two months now, and yesterday was my first moon circle here. Where previous ones fully took place outside, this one was largely held indoors in a beautiful yoga studio with a glass ceiling, so that the moon could still watch over us.

Inspired by Gabi Abrão (@sighswoon) the practices I chose for this gathering were centered around seeing our dynamic and sentient bodies as radio towers constantly receiving and transmitting frequencies. Her quote below offers a beautiful explanation of this analogy, that also helped me, personally, in re-orienting myself in new habits and spaces. It helped me become intentional in clearing any expectations or structures that were tailored for my life in Sweden but just wouldn’t take root here, and open myself up to really see what Brighton can offer me this time around.

“What are the mechanics behind you, as a body, as a big energy moving around the world, the big vast world of endless possibilities, of endless combinations? It’s all about dynamics. We don’t do anything alone. We’re like a radio tower. We can be intercepted. The channel can change. And so much of just maintaining our energy is a constant maintenance of honestly truly just listening. How do you tune a radio? How do you decide that a radio is clear? Just listening. Oh, can I hear it clearly? Was it clear in this other part of town and now it’s not? Is there another voice seeping in from another radio station? Is it the speaker itself? It’s like just any kind of adjustment with sound—which is the same thing as vibrations—is through listening, and it’s a lot of visceral listening.”

The Hunter’s Moon

October is believed to be a time where the veil between worlds is thin, which inspired ancient traditions and ceremonies. Amongst these is the Gaelic celebration of Samhain, starting on the night of October 31, honouring the end of the harvest season and the beginnining of winter which was associated with human sickness and even death. Similar to what we now know as the Christian traditions of All Hallow’s Eve, or Halloween, this is a time to honour the departed. Disguising one’s own body as a corpse was thought to prevent wandering spirits from using it as a host vessel, and instead be left in peace. Generally, as the boundaries between material and ethereal realms dissolve, this is an exceptionally good time to protect yourself from over-sensitivity and confusion. Clearing our bodies of visceral ties to what no longer belongs to us, or our current timeline, can restore clarity and help us become mindful of what it is we want to make space for.

This month’s full moon, also called the Hunter’s moon, was celebrated by sonic meditations and conscious dance. As this celebration involved more organisation (like hiring a venue and collaborating with a friend for the dance part), a flighty and awkward nervosity kept me company, especially at the beginning of the evening. I am certainly no stranger to this presence, but being a facilitator that guides other people into a mindful space was at times made difficult because of this. At the same time, this illuminated needs in regards to facilitating future circles, as well as made the practices all the more beneficial to me.

We were a total of eight people, both old and new friends, and most rewarding (as always) was hearing experiences and internal processes that people move through. Sonic meditations in the moonlit garden offered someone time to reconnect with the local environment, which they hadn’t been able to do since moving back to the area. The interpretation of the exercise transformed inside people’s minds to evolve into something they needed. Where the multilayered soundscape on the edge of the South Downs could initially spark anxiety in an ADHD-operated brain, decreasing the bubble of awareness to more near and direct sounds travelling up from underfoot helped clear the sensory channels, through which a mindful return to larger auditory realms was made bearable.

We received:

“Home Introspection.

Cacophony.

Pace, grounding connection.

Sensitivity worlds.”

After opening up our channels to listen and receive we moved onto a more dynamic practise, for which we were to be moved by what we heard and felt. My friend Nathan shaped this part of the evening with a mixtape that helped us get in a trance-like state, being with our bodies and exploring movements in the dark and spacious studio. Sober and conscious dancing for the sake of really feeling into your body is something not many people are familiar with. I recommend it to anyone: getting past that initial state of hyper-selfconsciousness is incredibly rewarding once you let yourself be moved.

Despite not being present in person, Nathan facilitated a journey of flow and release that after the last track had us curled up on the floor. Dancing helped me let go of my controlling mind and surrender to hypnotising movements. Returning to the room afterwards, witnessing the open state of human bodies scattered around the room, reminded me of stranded seashells on the shore, and made me marvel at the capicity of our vulnerability.

“Free fluid body.

Open.

Reflective.

Purpose: joy, forgiveness.”

To my starry eyed friends

A lot has moved through me during these past months and in the preparation leading up to this moon circle. As I struggled to settle and carve out a space for myself, it has been reassuring to receive messages that were affirming of my path. Parts of it have been shared by people no longer physically near me, and it is comforting to hear about synchronicities spanning large geographical distances, momentarily bringing others closer. At the same time, I let myself be inspired by the bold steps taken into the undefined territory of our futures.

I wonder if ‘being in control’ just means filling up the channels of my radio tower to the point in which the Unplanned has no room to interfere. Which is great for as long as it gives me beneficial structures to hold onto. These help me grow strong; and then they age with the natural cycles of life. I will recognise when it is time to let them go, and trust that in opening up — mindfully, lovingly — to life’s transmissions of the great Unplanned, I will be given answers to questions I didn’t know needed answering.

If you are someone who has stars in their eyes whose light threatens to be dimmed by realities sometimes very unlike your dreams: my heart is with you. Entirely. To keep it light, remember that at any moment you can decide to tune into different channels. They all have something to offer, and it is up to us to discover what treasures and lessons they hold. Keep putting yourself out there, looking for frequencies you would like to receive. If the work you’re putting in isn’t paying off, then at any time you can decide to pause your transmission, and instead open up your channels to listen and receive.

Let life happen to you and show its face.

Altogether, I’m proud of myself for continuing to host circles despite still being so new to it and not always knowing how to convey the magic that lies within our reach. I hope these moon circles can be expanded into other seasonal and ecotherapy practices. I also hope to find starry-eyed co-hosts to learn from and create experiences with.

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Offerings

The More Loving One by W. H. Auden

“Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime
Though this might take me a little time.”