SCREAMING AT THE CAPRICORN MOON!
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🪨┃🌜┃lunar-lunacy is sort of like a Creekmasons group art project! It’s meant to be a place where anyone who wants to make art can come up with things together. It’s especially geared toward those aspiring to become Adeptus Makers (Creatives who are published by the Content Collective), but we’d love to see you sign up even if you have no desire to ever have your work shared publicly.
This is a mini-oasis in a cultural wasteland where you can earn rep, share and receive feedback, and build connection.
A like ❤️ and a share 🔁 are super welcome as well. Perhaps you know a Liminal Trickster Mystic out there somewhere who is just dying to become a word wielding Lunatic? Send them our way!
Song: The Moon
Mason: Quell
Poem: SCREAMING AT GOD
Mason:
SCREAMING AT GOD
If there was a tonic,
If there was a pill,
I’d turn my back on god and
Surrender to the real .Beaten up and lying
Coated in my blood,
Knowing I’m denying
The why behind these cuts.Brainlessly I’m lurching
Closer to the truth:
All my needless searching;
Addicted to my muse;All my exploration
Of vague but sacred texts;
All my strange fixations;
The stillness with no rest;A seeker never finding.
Delusional and weird.
Ostracized and hiding:
A shaman no one hears.Outcast, yes, but maybe
Hermits coexist
Crazy, raging, raving
Party on the fringe.Doing ayahuasca—
Leaving earth behind—
Doing dishes also.
Home, our twisted minds.SINK OR SWIM, I’M CAUGHT IN
THE WATERS OF THE PATH—
IN WAVES I’M CAST PSYCHOTIC
BUT CAN’T FORGET. I CAN’T.
Poem: Howl at the Moon
Mason: FR33-K3y
Loose translations come first-
well second hand lung burst-
Howling was sung cursed-
How could it become worse?-
Time sure is some nurse-
Initially from thirst-
Fallowed by hungers-
Anger fades to converse-Became layered correspondence-
Estranged from before remonstrance-
Left Unpursude in obscondance-
Long passed and has not spawned since-
Playful meta has themed from a long rinse-
Witty banter teasing maya's strong hints-
Still vibes i ride, sound bang the gongs dense-
Symbolic Confusion formally wrong prince-Howl the futility even though i often try-
How safe are words my safe word is octopi-
Spend more time spotting 3s then that Jon Stockton guy-
Cross the T, spilt to see connected dot the I-
Lies dug in deep too many bought to fly-
Weavos con whatever, there's still a lot to try-
Not done Dundee, don’t touch that crocodile-
Reflections a blast team rocket style-
Essay: The Moon You’re Screaming at is not the Moon
Mason: Gabriel Durham - Nintozen
Throughout the old "eastern" world, there is a repeated metaphor involving the moon. Taoism says "the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon." Buddhist lexicons will inevitably have some poem about a "moon reflected in water" not being the real moon. So when I saw the theme for this season's post, this was the first place my mind went.
I think it is true as well. Very often what we are screaming at while facing the real moon is not the moon.
People seem to continually use the external world as a metaphor to either make sense of their internal world, or to somehow "intervene" in the form of omens. Our internal world becomes confusing and dense so we look to the outside world for a "sign" that might cause the internal world to fall back into order and rally around the sign.
Also, when people feel hollow inside, they will look to the external world to fill them back up. Even then, however, it is the internal void to be filled that drives them, not the actual qualities of the "real".
So this lunar lunacy, I wonder what I am screaming at and it is a hard season to say. Is it my father slowly dying? My mother's exhaustion in caring for him? My work in the environment and how deeply saddening it can be with all the loss? The fact that everyone I know is experiencing financial hardship to the point where none of us feel free to morn because it's "happening to everyone"? Or is the screaming just a habit at this point?
I do not know anymore.
But if I follow the finger pointing at the moon backwards, I find my heart.
Behind my heart I find a scale balanced between grief and deep gratitude. The things I am thankful for are impermanent and as they flow, they turn into grief. These are also impermanent so as they flow, they are reborn into gratitude.
Meanwhile the moon hangs there, simply the moon. Now cut free from the metaphorical burdens of my heart, its beauty sines light on my grief and gratitude so that they too, can be themselves.
Playlist: singing on the moon
Mason: jt
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