I find the winter moon waxing to flood the frozen landscape with light to be the most unsettling. Dormancy is stirred out of comfort in the days before fullness, stirring the detritus of old wounds in the dreamtime in vivid reenactments. But it is during the waxing that we can discover what we are still holding inside of us that seeks for release.

Release, by definition implies ease, but freeing what we are accustomed to holding close is never easy. It requires a trust and surrender that we are not used to embracing. It requires finding a wellspring of promise that unsettles the fortitude of the structure of armor we have we created to define the self. Even though we may not like this creation of self.

Winter is the season of dreams. Governed by the element of water, it stirs the darkness of creation into life in the long cold nights. It is a time of processing the old into the form of our choosing as we move into the budding, growth phase of spring. Winter’s reign is long here in the north. Its breath is so cold, it causes harm to the living body that lingers outside of the haven of hibernation. It is meant to test the endurance of life; this will to survive and even thrive, come spring.

When the moon turns its full face away from Earth and beings to wan, relief trickles through our dreams, offering a glimpses of the inner sun. It is here, after we face the unsetting reminders of what binds us in stagnation, that we can see the promise of rebirth in whatever form we choose to stir into creation. I always look forward to the waning phase of the moon after the fitful nights of waxing, which bring the phantoms of my past out to play. In the waning, I can see the potential. The atmospheric landscape of dreams softens, making images more difficult to recall upon waking, but this softening holds a warmth of light not found in the stark light of the full moon. When the inner sun begins to take reign the magic of the self unfolds. See me, it whispers, I am here. Give me the nourishment I need to grow.