She had been stalking me for weeks; the huntress of the blood moon ignited by the fires of mars, pushed and pulled by the deep plutonian waters. Now she had arrived; Artemis full moon.
The task: to get intimate with my daemons at midnight.
There was a loose plan. I would find myself high on a mountaintop somewhere in Topanga—a land I had limited experience with and certainly none at night. My lover—returning for the first time since the equinox and the initiation of our union during my bleeding time—might meet me there. One thing was for sure, we would find ourselves in each other’s arms by night’s end.
After his own deep medicine journey, he made his way to my house around 9 PM to find me playing my drum, dancing in front of my altar amidst my transition into the moon portal.
We held each other on my bed.
We have a way of communicating depths of meaning in very few words. I felt him tired and melting into the comfort of “my chambers” (his words). I felt her electric energy running through me.
“You know, I can go on this journey alone, I’m totally OK with that,” I said.
“I’m not,” he replied.
I made my way to the shower to prepare for my date with Lady Chaos. Black gothic dress both billowing and strappy. Black knee high socks. Black fingerless gloves with fur accents. Black cashmere witch cape. Black liquid eyeliner with an upward swoop and red lipstick. Panty-less.
I gathered my black bass-y drum, salt, stones, crystal and a snack to offer my daemons.
He suggested we bring hot tea. We mixed rose and green.
My heart stirring, I drove with the exhilarating fear and excitement of where I might go and who I might meet fully exposed under her light. Grounded by my lover’s steady presence. Aroused by his touch.
We climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed the winding roads through the mountains passing through layers of thick, moist clouds.
Miles further than I had imagined, he spotted the narrow trail climbing the mountain.
Her glow was but a hint of a shadow in the thick sky.
We walked and surveyed the terrain. I would choose my ceremony spot and he would claim a location for the after party.
Across a flat area that snaked along the ridge the word “LOVE” was written on the side of the hill in stones. A few feet away was a clearing directly beneath the moon. He said, “What do you think of this?”
I had some resistance to dancing with my daemons so close to the LOVE altar, my inner mars that thrives with intensity, thought it might not be dark or scary enough. Then I stood in the center of the clearing, a near perfect natural circle and connected with the land. I got a yes.
He handed me a knife and a stick of incense, “for an offering,” he said. “I’ll be down the hill to give you total privacy but close enough to hear if you really needed me.”
I cast my circle. I played my drum. I became aware of all of the shadowy figures around me. Occasionally I was arrested by whispers of another’s breath and creaking from the brush. Wide eyed I reminded myself that this too is my natural habitat.
I invoked my daemons to speak through me. They told me to stop playing small, they showed me my victim and how I’m still looking outside for the answers. They revealed new layers of an old story and commanded me to stand in and speak something new. I furiously wrote in my journal without enough light to make out the words. So many threads connecting in a new way.
Suddenly the entire page illuminated. I looked up to see the clouds parting and her full brightness exposed. The ceremony was complete.
(I debated the intelligence of leaving food on the ground in a region where there are plenty of coyote and mountain lion but nonetheless I was here to meet my daemons. So I gasped and clumsily dumped my offering on the center of the circle I had been working in).
I steadily traveled along the winding path locked in her gaze. Energized by her electricity. Full of heat even though I could nearly see my breath. Crickets singing as if it were midsummer.
I found him in meditation. My red faux fur blanket spread on the ground. I walked out further to the edge of the ridge to get closer to her.
“Lady Lara Love . . .” he quietly called to me.
We paused and looked into each other’s eyes. We embraced. And then laughed our own versions of the wild and wicked laugh that is uniquely evoked within each other’s presence. The mad belly infused laughter infectious and reverberating from the ravines of silent spaces of knowing that words cannot touch.
Copal smoke rising, we sat together on the red fur dreaming. Centered in ourselves and fully connected we traversed deep earth and cosmic sky while offering unspoken prayers.
We deliberated over removing all of our clothing within the rapidly dropping temperature. I still felt unusually warm. “I’m going to keep my socks on.” I smiled.
We made love on the earth deeply connected and warm through body and breath. I felt the incredible energy rising inside of me. He rode each wave. I saw the serpent move through him as he acclimated to each surge.
I witnessed myself question if he could stay with me, if he could handle all of me. I saw myself begin to hold back and contain the rushes of ecstasy moving through me. Then, I heard a voice from within, GIVE IT ALL TO HIM.
So I did. I opened to receive her full power moving by and with and through us. I unabashedly, unapologetically unleashed my pleasure and we merged with each other and the stars.
As I rested a few moments later fully at home on his chest he commented, “That was efficient.” We laughed wildly again.
We slept naked on the earth intertwined beneath our make shift blanket—my cashmere witch cape and his wool jacket—with the blessings of her splendid light—hidden then exposed hidden then exposed as the thick, wet clouds rolled by.