The Goddess Within

Driving home this evening, I saw a beautiful sight: a thin crescent moon dangling over the treetops like a celestial emoticon.

Something about the moon in the sky always makes me feel reflective, philosophical...deep. No doubt most people have the same feeling, and have done ever since they bothered to look up into the sky and wonder what that bright thing up there was, relieving the frightening darkness.

When I lived on Salt Spring Island, in British Columbia, I was seeking some kind of spiritual outlet. Salt Spring is a very spiritual place, most notably as a haven for many Wiccans and Pagans. I became interested in these faiths, bought many books about them, studied, learned, hoped to internalize their philosophies. I was not, and am still not, much of a joiner, so I considered myself a "solitary," practicing my Craft at home, hidden even from my husband's eyes. I don't think he really understood what I was trying to accomplish, but at least he respected my desire to be alone during my rituals.

One night, during the full moon, I decided to go outside and do a silent meditation. I went out the back door and stood on the grass in a spot where no one could see me. If it had been warm enough, and had I been confident enough not to be disturbed, I might have gone skyclad (nude). As it was, I just stood there, staring up at the moon, meditating about the goddess which, in my own iteration of this faith, was the energy that powers the earth, the cosmos and all life within it.

It is a powerful thing to stare up at the moon. It's a light in the darkness, a light that makes the night less terrifying. A light that is gentle on the face, giving youth to the old and beauty to the plain. It is a light that leads wanderers through the night and reveals lurking dangers. It's easy to imagine those very first people looking up and thinking the moon must be looking back down upon them, her light waxing and waning each month like a fickle lover's smile. It's easy to imagine religion starting there, on a moonlit night.

I stood there for almost an hour. At first I was very aware of my surroundings, easily distracted. But I focused. I fixed my eyes on the moon and focused. After a while, the world around me faded and the moon filled my eyes completely. I thought about the goddess, the energy of life, and let the moonlight wash over my face. It was an almost palpable sensation. Not like sunlight, that heats the skin. Not like a soft breeze, which feels like a soft caress. It was an even pressure all over me, and especially on my face. A force little like the feeling of being in deep water...an even pressure all over. The longer I stood there, the more this unfelt sensation grew. I felt as if the goddess was looking back at me.

And then a very curious thing happened. All of a sudden, I felt as if I was looking at myself. I felt as if I was the moon, looking down at a little woman standing alone in her back yard in the night. I was inside myself and outside myself at the same time. It was a curious and exhilarating feeling. I was the goddess. The goddess was me, inside me...all around me, I was part of it. Part of everything. It made so much sense.

It is a very powerful memory that comes back easily whenever I look at the moon, no matter what stage it's in. It helps me understand why people worship, why they so desperately seek something larger outside themselves that will watch over them. So easy to see why ancient, ignorant people would have invented supernatural explanations for the things they felt and why those explanations have remained so compelling ever since.

As an atheist I know that what I experienced was simply a slightly altered state of being, a mental exercise that used part of my brain I don't usually use. So easy to see why people would seek that out. It could be addictive.