July’s New Moon is faded light within fading light. The year’s light fades after the solstice, the moon is dark. The new moon influences me to throw things out, physically, mentally, emotionally. If I don’t want something to grow, that is sometimes the only answer. I’m repulsed by consumerism, recently, as I take on new interests and leave others behind. I tire of being made to feel I must have something in order to do what I do properly or be one of the crowd, or in order to be beautiful enough or have a nice enough home.
I shy away from fads, as I always have, but even the non-faddish interests are rank with “buy me now” messages. I’m learning that if I don’t buy it now and it goes away, when and if I look for it later, though that particular wonder of consumerism may not be available, something similar or better will be. I live in a land of overabundance, to the point of being grotesque, a great cash cow that must be fed on the fruit of our too frenzied labors. We don’t stop to think anymore, we work and we consume. In business, the focus is too often on profit and growth rather than quality, ethics and the future of the world.
Heading into the moon’s growth phase, I think about what I want to increase in my life, and what I don’t. I nurture deliberateness in my actions.
I saw part of a spectacular and exceedingly noisy display of fireworks last night. They were at the high school, two miles away, and the higher blooms were visible above the trees from my back deck. Afterward I couldn’t sleep. The air still seemed alive with the thunder of the fireworks. My cat craned her neck at every sound, eyes wide, wondering if the booming was over. The dog seemed electrically alive. In Feng Shui they use firecrackers to clear stagnant chi. Our fireworks seemed to do that, clearing and charging the air even as they filled it with smoke. The neighbors across the street stood in the street to watch, with their grandchildren. The kids ooohed and aaahed each burst. It was good to hear.