full moon

I've just come back from driving my son and his best friend to South San Francisco to go to a party. All the way there the full moon held our attention, big and brilliant in the sky. We all longed to capture the moment, all wishing we had a camera. For teenagers, they were suitably awed and amazed. It's a spectacular moon on a spectacular night.

It's exactly one moon cycle since I came home from the hospital. I am settling into acceptance of the diagnosis of diabetes. There has been grief for my old self and my old ways. I miss potatoes. I miss margaritas. There also has been gratitude for the healthy changes the diagnosis has wrought. Would I ever have changed my eating habits in such a dramatic way or stepped up the exercise to such a degree? Probably not. I am proud that I am managing the disease without medication and that my blood sugar is now on the low side of the completely normal range. Eating a low glycemic diet - which means eating only foods which slowly turn to sugar - and exercising daily is keeping me healthy with the added side effect of weight being lost. I have a disease, but my goodness, I feel good!

The moon is full and night and day are in almost perfect balance. In the past, I struggled with the equinoxes. Balance seemed so darn unnatural, coming as it does only twice a year. This year, with the moon so big, bright and full, it seems light is shining on all that is out of whack and also what has come into harmony and balance.

Two days ago it was the fifth year anniversary of the war in Iraq. Nothing to celebrate, but plenty to grieve. That evening I was invited to a dinner at a friend's house aimed at getting second and third wave feminists talking. I learned about the Third Wave Foundation and listened to younger feminists describe what being a feminist means to them. We older feminists told some of our stories and managed to not completely monopolize the conversation. In fact, balance came easily. I'm still processing how much has changed and too, how little has changed. It was so strange to be telling stories of trying to stop the Vietnam war on the anniversary of this war. We talked late into the night, and the conversation, like the dinner, was rich and filling.

So, the moon is overhead, and I'm thinking about balance, feminism, war, diabetes, teenagers, and the beauty of a moon filled sky. Time to stop writing, and go out and stand in the moonbeams. And put in my Pagan prayer for peace. Again.