But, regardless (I always want to say "irregardless" because it's just so wrong that it amuses me) a blue moon is a special night, nine times more powerful than a regular full moon. It only occurs about every two and half years, and to happen on a clear summer night on the last day of the month is even rarer.
It's the most positive time for charging, or infusing, or empowering crystals, quartz, and silver. It's energy can be summoned for protection, wisdom and love.
So I took advantage of this and I set out my silver necklace with some of Gypsy's ashes in it, under the moonbeams on Thursday night. The moon shines directly on my sundeck.
The following morning, I wore the necklace and went for a walk in the forest, following the trails that we most commonly took when I used to walk her. It was a hot, hot morning and as I walked I concentrated as hard as I could on her spirit as I held the necklace....I imagined her running through the bushes, chasing squirrels, digging frantically for gophers, and looking at me with those beautiful pitty eyes. The air had that hot, dry grass of August smell, and I breathed as deeply as I could, trying to inhale as much of that scent as I could, and I imagined the essence of her seeping into the necklace.
The moon was still faintly visible, the pale white daytime moon, so imagined that there was still good energy in the air.
Then I went for lunch with a friend who is one of the strongest, most positive and happy people that I know. That lunch table had nothing but good vibes! I spent the rest of the day thinking happy and positive thoughts, staying clear of negativity, watching no news, all the while wearing Miss Gypsy.
All this story telling does have a point, and I'll get to it soon, but I feel like this background info is a crucial part of the story.
That night was the "real" full moon, even though it had been full during the day, now it was visible and not a cloud in the sky, so the moonbeams were so bright that they lit up the table where I set the necklace. I wrapped it around a pine cone that I had brought home from the forest years ago, when Gypsy was still here.
And that was that. This morning, Saturday September 1st, I put it on (slept terribly all night long, worried that crows would steal it during the night) and off I went, back to the bush.
Now, you know, I don't think it matters what a person believes, as far as a greater power goes, as long as you actually believe. I'm not going to get caught up in the semantics of religion here, suffice it to say I have my own beliefs, as I'm sure you have yours too. As the saying goes, "your beliefs don't make you a better person, your behavior does." And this is my story.
I'm walking the trail, knowing that my talisman is as powerful as it's ever going to be. The forest is quiet and still. So still. Not a blade of grass is moving, not a leaf on a tree is stirring. Not the tiniest breath of air is moving. I'm concentrating on receiving a sign....any sign....any proof.
I stop every few minutes, listening for a crack or rustle in the bush. Actually, I always hear noises, generally the wind blowing, or a squirrel dropping a pinecone, or running along a branch. Sometimes I hear a tiny "snap" as a deer steps on a branch. Sometimes I even hear large bangs and crashes as someone elses dog runs out of the underbrush, tongue lolling and eyes sparkling as it sees me, hoping for pats or treats and leaving generous dollops of slobber on my pants.
Today, however was just so silent. Every few minutes I give the two tone whistle that Shane used when he called her, but I can't whistle very loudly, so I also gave the horsey sort of click that I used to call her. Stop dead...listen...nothing. A few more times....nothing.
I'm wondering what to say if I see someone, if they hear me calling a dog. I can't really say I'm looking for a sign from beyond, nor do I want to pretend I have a real dog in the woods, but luckily I see no one, so it's a moot worry.
About half way through the walk I'm on a part of the path that was Gypsy's least favorite. There is a fork in the path, one way goes home and she always wanted to go that way and when I kept going straight she would slump down and look dejected and thump along behind me, you could just hear her heaving a huge sigh of resignation. Such a drama queen.
Now I hear a crackle in the bush. I stop and hear it again. I want to turn and look, but if it's a squirrel, I'll be so disappointed. But if I keep going, and don't turn, then I can pretend it was her, but I'll never know. And I'll always regret not turning. But if I turn, and it's nothing, I'll wish I had just kept going. Ack! What to do?
I turn.
I see a squirrel run out of the underbrush. I can almost taste the disappointment. I bite my lip. The squirrel looks and me and I look at it. It's holding a pinecone in its little paws, so sweet. Then it drops the pinecone and scampers about two feet up the tree, chattering loudly....scolding me for startling it I assume.
Then, and I swear on my mother's grave, I swear on my children's lives, the grasses beside the path start to move and I see a "whoosh" or a ripple of movement from the path to the tree, the grasses move as if something is dashing towards the tree. It lasts only a second or two...it lasts as long as...well, as long as it would take a small dog to dash from beside my legs to the base of the tree.
My heart sort of stopped. I stood as still as I could. There is not another leaf or grass or hair on my head that is moving. There is not the slightest bit of breeze anywhere...the world is still.
And I start to cry.
