Underneath the Crescent Moon

Hello Dear Friends,

So it’s a temperate night somewhere around 67°F tonight here in Orlando.  The sliding glass door and one of the windows is open to let some cool breezes blow through our apartment of Greyhaven and to air it out and to diffuse the scents of scented oils and incenses.

Yes, I named the apt.  Or rather we did since Jon agreed to the idea.  The walls are a kind of Taupe with a slightly greyish tint in the right light and it felt right.

It’s been a very relaxed/semi-conscious kind of day at Grayhaven today.  I got home from working the overnight at the Motel and promptly called a few key folks at the U.U. congregation I’m a member and serial vollunteer at, to beg off greeting and ushering duties with a monstrous Sinus-something.  Then I medicated and passed out to a fitful sleep.  Feeling a bit better, but still stuffy and with that “Did I accidentally snort a 10lb weight up my nose while I slept?!” sort of feeling.  Nap.  Medicate.  Eat. Tea.  Putter online.  Nap again.  A very basic, foot in front of the other, what was I just doing, kind of day.

Alll of which influenced my decision for  a fairly simple and low key Noumenia.

Hestia’s oil burner was filled with a Citrus Cranberry scented oil and lit.  I have poured offerings of Whisky to the Household Gods; Red Stag (a black cherry infused Bourbon) for Herne, and Jack Daniel’s Green Label for Hecate.  Water has been poured to the Beloved and Honored Dead.  I have also made my own humble monthly Puja to Ganesh (who I am still figuring out).

Then I offered some lavender incense and prayers to the rest of the Gods…

“I praise the Ancient Gods,

I praise Them with the breath of my body,

I praise Them with the Works of my hands,

I praise the Gods of Olympus,

I praise the Gods that wander Gaia’s Green Earth,

I praise the Gods of the Underworld,

I praise the Ancient Gods with the breath of my body,

I praise the Ancient Gods with the works of my hands,”

Not that that’s verbatim, it’s more of an improvisation with those basic lines and elements repeated and interwoven as feels right.

The traffic noises from the road sound vaguely like a river.  The crescent moon hides herself along the Western sky behind the treeline and the horizons glow with the electric hum of the city.  Clouds sail slowly and stately in the darkened sky.

A good night, and good night!

Pax / Geoffrey

2 thoughts on “Underneath the Crescent Moon

  1. I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a name but none have really ever stuck… except one. Most of the houses/apartments I’ve lived in were called by their street name (The Iowa Street House, the Pine Street Apartment, etc) but one was called The Pirate House. Originally, the “parking lot with a covered porch” next door to our house that the local homeless community gathered in was called the Pirate Cove and they were the Pirates, but then the name transfered over to the house. I still miss the Pirate House… it was a dump, but it was our dump 🙂 I guess my parents’ house has a name, too… Casa B, B being the first initial of their/our last name.

    I think Greyhaven sounds like a wonderful name for a home. I hope that it always is your haven 🙂

  2. Pax

    Hey Alyss!
    Thanks for the well wishes! I’m not sure if most houses or apartments in the states have enough spirit to have a name. To my mind its a mix of the spirits of place, and age, and attention spent on the place, that help awaken a place to being a being worthy of a name…

    … or am I getting to woo-woo as I start my morning coffee?!


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