December 12, 2019
This morning at 12:12 a.m., on December 12th, Ketch, our Standard Poodle, and I, got up to see the full moon. I was afraid it was going to be too straight overhead to see from the house, but we sat in the garage and gazed upwards, and there it was in all is grandeur. Ketch rested his chin on the windowsill and I parked myself into Steven's winery chair. It was a beautiful, magical night. Of course, from the light of the moon, we could see almost everything just outside our window: the barn, with barn quilt; random pieces of farm equipment; the large rock in our yard that I mow around in summertime.
A funny aside, but when I got out of bed and not wanting to wake Steven, I fumbled around for a pair of pants to put on, but the only thing I could find was a a cotton, long underwear top. I decided to put it on anyway, stepping one foot after the other into each armhole and holding the bottom of the shirt, now at my waistline, with one of my free hands.
So there we sat, me in my two shirts, Ketch sitting to my left, the both of us, bathed in moonlight. Looking up, I was also drawn to a bright star, just to the southeast of the moon. It was a star I've seen many times, Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, also known as the "dog star." As I looked up to this star, a cloud formation was moving quickly towards it, in the shape of what I first thought looked like a pig leaping across the sky, but then my second thought, "that cloud looks like Flash," our other dog, a Jack Russell Terrier. This determined cloud, glided across Sirius and where an eye would have been, the star lined up perfectly, forming a dazzling bright oculus on this ethereal pup.
Sitting quietly, breathing in and out, in and out, I waited until 12:12 a.m. I had decided ahead of time that I would offer a prayer or intention when the clock struck. At that moment, I prayed for the health of planet Earth, prayed that we could somehow solve global warming (not such a little thing to accomplish). I'm trying to accept that my prayers don't have to be reverential or that it's necessary for me to gather up every fiber of my being in order to make my voice heard. Maybe this 12:12@12/12 portal would help speed things along.
After a time, Ketch and I shared a banana and then we went to bed. It was interesting that Ketch got up with me in the first place and stayed so close. Usually Flash gets up to follow me around in the middle of the night, especially if it involves food somehow, or maybe a trip outside if he's persistent, but there was Ketch, just sitting at my side, with me looking up at the moon and him looking out to the lawn under bright moonlight.
Sirius is part of the constellation, Canis Major, the greater dog, and known to follow Orion, the hunter through the sky. "In ancient Mesopotamia, Sirius, Named KAK.SI.DI by the Babylonians, was seen as an arrow aiming towards Orion, while the southern stars of Canis Major and a part of Puppis were viewed as a bow, named BAN in the Three Stars Each tablet, dating to around 1100 BC. (Wikipedia). Later on, the Ancient Greeks replaced this arrow depiction with that of a dog.
When I think of moving into this next century, into 2020 specifically, my intention is to be covetous with my time and attention, to foster my highest good. I look back on how I've squandered time, specifically to my sense of place in this world. Going forward "dog" will play a significant role in this exploration, my dogs, literally and figuratively at my side. In attending a shaman workshop this past summer, Wolf came through as one of my spirit animals. Now, I have no doubt that "dog" will play, does play, a huge role in my life. Maybe I can also draw on the image of Orion, as hunter. I like this imagery.
When discussing plans for our vineyard tasting room, Steven and I have agreed that we want to create a space around harvest and hunt. We'll hang portraits of hunting dogs and the outdoors. Not a coincidence that these will play a major role in shaping our vineyard, as we have become stewards to our land and grape vines. It all feels so ancient, like the constellations of the night sky, this gift of the 12.12 moon, pointing me in the direction of my continued journeying.
Earlier in the evening, Ketch and Flash ran in the field just outside our western door. It's always such a joy to watch them bound away from us into twilight. Ketch keeps a moderate distance between himself and Flash, our white warrior in the lead. (He's only as brave as his flank who follows, his added protection). Ketch came back fairly quickly. It took many whistles and finally clapping to get Flash to return home. After about 5 minutes, he finally showed, a white sprite, darting back towards us. Now, in almost darkness, he seems hesitant, at one point standing in lawn a short distance away. It wasn't until he was just outside our door, we realized he had a deer bone in this mouth, a foreleg and knee joint, parts of a carcass which a hunter had left on an adjoining property.
And so it begins...
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