For some, the full moon is symbolic of becoming whole again. For some, it is a symbol of madness. I’ve known people in the mental health and emergency services swear they are busier, when there is a full moon.
From childhood I have always scanned the sky for the full moon. In my new home I have woken at night only to find the kitchen flooded in light from the full moon outside the window. Almost like a prop light. Magical companionship! The full moon, for me, is a symbol of oneness. Of connectedness.
This picture was taken at Gantheaume Point in Broome on a night of celebration. It was the night of the Floating Lanterns during the Shinju Matsuri Festival. Originally the lighted lanterns were meant to honour the memory of those pearlers who were lost at sea. Over time, it has become symbolic of peace. Of friendship. Of love. Of gratitude. It is a touching ceremony that takes place at dusk.
A non-swimmer I was too anxious to walk into the sea, so a stranger walked my lantern into deeper waters. In the womblike embrace of warm briny waters, I was one with my parents. I had come to honour their memory. To farewell them. But I was at their knee, a child again, learning. I did so silently while watching the lantern silhouetted against fading light, until it blended with hundreds of other lanterns. Soon all messages of peace, friendship, love and gratitude were one. A collective message sent out to sea with hope it will return with the tides.
I turned around to walk to the shore and saw the moon. It was one of those magic moments. It illuminated the truth I needed to see.
I am who I am.
Until next time
a dawn bird