I recently dreamt that I walked the long corridors of a warehouse storing the world’s treasures and magical objects: statues, tablets, chalices, and the like.

My eyes passed easily over the thousands of golden tools and trinkets, until suddenly they fell upon a stone statue of the divine mother. She vibrated with energy, as if daring me to be strong enough to pick her up.

I knew her power had survived longer than anything in the structure. I also knew she was she was asking me to allow her to accompany me on my next journey.

To take something from this place, you have to do something you’ve never done before, my friend's voice said next to me.

I stepped outside the old building to find that it sat on the edge of a seaside cliff. All around were people pushing themselves to the limit to try and earn their right to take a piece of sacred treasure. They skydived, cliff jumped, did acrobatics on top of each other, without hesitation or fear.

As I watched, I tied a thick rope around my waist and the other end to the building.

And, I jumped.

I swung wide around the structure, floating out over the hungry chaos of the people and the waves of the crystal blue sea.

I looked down to see that my clothes had been replaced with a baby pink ballgown and ballet slippers.

I felt graceful—a feeling I am not very familiar with in waking life. More than grace, I felt at peace, at ease in the risk I was taking to be worthy of the power that was calling upon me.

As creatives in this chaotic and hungry world, it feels increasingly difficult to find the balance between what we do in service of our souls, our duties, and the expectations placed upon us. I know for me personally, the challenge to find my footing in creativity over the last few months has brought on more existential crises than I care to admit.

The winter’s forced hibernation has allowed me to become steadfast in tending to the practical. I’ve found solace in the physical realm, warming the hearth, cooking meals, talking with friends, and solidifying work routines. The result is that I have found myself thriving professionally, getting swept up into roles and worlds I never thought possible.

But at what cost?

Many things have sparked over these long, dark months, but my ability to be aligned with my creativity is not one. I am sure I’m not alone in this—I know many of my fellow writers struggle to find their spark in the heaviness of winter.

Today is the Full Snow Moon in Leo opposite the Aquarius Sun. This Leo-Aquarius polarity asks us to take a good long look at how we are balancing all that is personal (Leo) and all that is impersonal (Aquarius).

As Café Astrology writes of this full moon:

The energy of the Leo Moon is creative self-expression and the boost to the individual ego that we receive through pleasure and romance, while the Aquarius Sun rules the group, more impersonal friendships, and objectivity. This Full Moon urges us to strike a balance between romance and friendship, and between expressing ourselves in personal and impersonal ways.

This moon asks us: 

• How can we express ourselves authentically in both personal and impersonal realms?
• How can we bring pleasure into duty, and duty into our pleasure?
• Where are places we have become too focused on the external/impersonal (for example, bending ourselves over backward to simply have the object, vs enjoying the process of earning it)? 

At first glance, the desires of the Leo side of this full moon might seem a little selfish, especially under the influence of the all-practical Aquarius Sun. But Leo is also incredibly loyal to its pride, meaning that this kind of self-care and delight allows Leo to be better equipped to be a part of and protect its community.

Make no mistake: pleasure is a political act. One that serves many purposes, but above all, allows us to step into ourselves authentically so that we can then be in better service to the world around us.

On the flip side, Aquarius reminds that not all things can be at the will of the ego. Like it or not, we do have duties to fulfill. We do have passions, people, pets, plants, and the like that rely on us to get shit done.

And there is so much we still need to get done.

But we can never forget that we, too, rely on ourselves. We can never forget that self-care and self-expression are duties to ourselves that cannot be buried under the others.

This might be truly uncomfortable for some to hear. This is far from the dogma we are taught and will likely require a major shift in habits.

But if we can do it, if we can make the leap in a fashion that makes us feel free, can you imagine what can be learned and transcended?

Can you imagine the power and creativity that is there waiting, if we simply make room for it within our hearts and practices?

Can you imagine the work that can be done together?
 
Do something you’ve never done before. 

We are starting the new year with a Full Moon offering from Collective Aporia's own Harris Armstrong! Harris is a poet, writer, teacher, and administrative member of Aporia. I tend to say, "if you need something done, just ask Harris." Please enjoy and  Happy New Year! 
Darkly Yours,
Noah Christie

​January Full Moon

Welcome to the other side of the crossroads to 2023! Last year around this time, collective.aporia offered a workshop called “Imbas Forosnai as Rest” that I led. Though we are a creative collective, my intention behind that workshop was to encourage participants (and myself) to take a cue from our northern hemisphere weather and hibernate artistically. 

‘Imbas forosnai’ is an Irish term that more or less translates to divine inspiration or poetic frenzy. Does that not seem like an enviable state? In the tradition of the bards and druids, I led our workshop in creating a ritual to bring us to that place of restful restlessness. Power naps have gotten me through the most difficult, time-consuming, and stressful parts of my life; I set an alarm for twenty minutes exactly and lay down, eyes closed. Sometimes I fall asleep, sometimes I don’t. Either way I have to spring out of bed, ready to go on to the next task. The workshop was meant to evoke that feeling, resting so purposefully that at the end, there is a restless, irrepressible need to create.

Given that this Wolf Moon is the micromoon (when the moon is furthest away from the earth), we take a page out of the moon’s book and pull away in a similar fashion. I invite you to think about how to rest purposefully as the bards partook in the imbas forosnai rituals. Before, the bards would fast, then chew (but not swallow!) the meat of an animal that is taboo to eat before sequestering themselves in a dark tent until the inspiration struck. We can create something that suits our needs with those elements. Here are some guiding questions for creating your ritual:

1. On fasting: What do you need to eliminate out of your life for a short amount of time? Are you being intentional about doing what you enjoy or are you participating in something that gives you a quick emotional fix? Consider abstaining as an experiment, how long can you go without? I am not an advocate of abstinence from joy and pleasure, but that pleasure can be amplified by waiting on occasion.
   
   
   
2. On meat: What do you tell yourself is unhealthy for you? Consider whether or not ‘unhealthy’ is an arbitrary label. Examine what you consider taboo and why. What a moderate indulgence can do for you? While you abstain from one thing, what fills the hole left behind? In other words: remember to feed yourself even as you are fasting. The bards specifically chewed and not swallowed, brought death close to them and dwelt in that liminal space. How close can you get to the lip of a chasm? What will you see at the bottom?
   
   
   
3. On rest: I mean really rest. This doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping, unless you’re in need. What feeds you? What relaxes you? Now is the time to pamper yourself to a point you’re uncomfortable and need to get up. This is how you stoke that creative fire, care for yourself until you cannot be cared for any longer. Maybe this means you lay in an empty room and nothing more. Because this is meant to be eventually disquieting rest, consider avoiding falling into a meditation practice. Crawl into the bog of the mind instead of trying to control or even observe where your thoughts lead. Letting your psyche buzz and be wild for a while. This is where that frenzied inspiration is born. After that, you can unravel. Enjoying that rest until it tangles is crucial to the success of the ritual.

An important note for this restless, frenzied creation on the other side: in my ideal world all our bodies, art, and labor will not be devoted to capitalism, despite our current need to make ends meet and care for our responsibilities. Though you may need this frenzied rest to continue your day job or finish a manuscript you’re hoping to publish, though this ritual may be a desperate attempt for control in a landscape of increasing need, please think about engaging in an act of private art. Maybe that art is small and ephemeral, a painting entirely of water, a poem you only recite aloud to yourself, or even making a snow sculpture that will not survive the season. If you have troubles doing things for yourself, as I often do, think of this act as an offering to that inspiration. Give the divine who provided that inspiration your thanks by giving your plenty. But I hope you can make that art just for you. It’s okay to be selfish. The ritual is meant to fill your cup first. 

February 1st is Imbolc; climb out of your poetic caves and take a walk to observe the changing earth in honor of Brighid. Return to the orbit of your life by having an Imbolc feast or building a fire! Make a celebration, as even the small milestones are worthy of joy. 

Please let us know how you craft your imbas forosnai rituals! We want to celebrate your blessed rest along with you.

​

Salutations! This month the Full Moon will appear in full on 12/7 at 11:08 EST. This Moon is often called the Cold Moon, Frost Moon, Long Night's Moon. We get it. It's Winter, right? The Solstice will be on the 21st. I don't have to tell you that this is the biggest holiday mashup of the year and, unless I miss my guess, most of us are already celebrating in some form. Please enjoy this Full Moon offering from returning writer Lindsey Higo. I also offer you my warmest blessings to see you through the season. 

Blessed be,
Noah Christie

Cheers fellow moonbaskers and stargazers,
Another solstice is almost upon us. My last offering was at Summer Solstice so it truly feels like I have come full circle to offer this musing just days ahead of the Winter Solstice.


This month’s moon, the Cold Moon, is the last full moon of the modern calendar year. The moon heralding winter. This moon is piercing in its clarity in the velvety night sky and thin air, when frost glitters on bare branches and snow blankets the ground. Its light, like an icicle, is clear to silver white, and invokes that slight freezing burning sensation when you hold ice in your bare hand for too long. It’s beautiful but even bundled head to toe it’s hard to gaze upon it for long. These few moments in the breath stealing night are worth it, not only for this moon but for the restoring wave of warmth as you leave it to shine and return indoors.


Nature has gone quiet but inside my home, the short days are buzzing with energy as I clean and decorate to welcome friends and family for Yule and holiday celebrations. In stark contrast to summer, where keeping my guests cool, relaxed, and refreshed is my priority; I turn inward to my home and my hearth spaces in the wintertime to craft a place of comfort, warmth, and refuge for when loved ones brave the moonlit roads in icy weather for a visit.


My hearth and kitchen provide not only practical warmth but are a source of nourishment essential to life. The wood burning fireplace is a well-loved centerpiece. It anchors the room and plays its part in keeping the household harmonious. It’s a place to thaw tired bones and the meeting point for important events and discussions. While we do not cook our meals over its flames, I tend it lovingly with wood, kindling and pinecones gathered and dried in the warmer seasons. I also carry my hearth into the kitchen by lighting a candle from its blaze. Resting the candle on the stove allows the fire’s bright energy to charge my daily meals and household tasks. I take extra care in preparing both spaces during the winter. I place intentions for health and nourishment when I clean, or bake, light candles and build and bank the fire on particularly cold days and nights. In celebration of Yule, I prepare special meals and hot drinks for my guests to carry heat and love through my home and keep the cold dark at bay.


I invite you to embrace the warmth in your space, whether through a large fireplace or a small apartment kitchenette; give it a little extra attention and welcome your loved ones in for a simmering cocktail and a cozy catch up as you gaze at the moon through the window safe in the comfort of a heavy blanket.


Mulled Cider for Yule & Solstice


Ingredients:
1.5 liters of dry cider (I recommend Aspall from the UK or your local cidery)
400ml fresh pressed apple juice
100ml Calvados apple brandy
75g brown sugar
4-6 whole cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
3-5 whole star anise
One orange sliced into wheels (hold aside half of the slices for garnish)


Preparation:
In your favorite simmering pot combine cider, apple juice and sugar and gently bring to a simmer to melt the sugar and warm the liquids. I use my favorite copper pot for its love and energy transference properties. When steam gently starts to rise, add all of the spices infusing them with intentions for protection from the elements and healing warmth. Gently drop in the full orange wheels along with your wishes of friendship and love for your guests about to arrive. Let the pot return to a simmer, then reduce to low heat. Add brandy with a light stir and keep on low for 20-30 min to keep warm and mull the flavors. Your home will fill with a spicy tart scent unmistakable with winter. Time this last warming cycle to finish just after your guests arrive and have shed their boots, coats, and hats. Encourage them to find a cozy seat or perch in or near the kitchen and ladle the cider into your favorite mugs, garnish with an orange slice. Serve with not only to warm your guests’ hands and bodies, but to encourage free flowing conversation to warm your souls.

Lindsey Higo is a spirited hostess living in Denver, Colorado, who spends time puttering around her kitchen and patio garden, reading on a dark and stormy night (or any night for that matter) and entertaining. Her cocktail crafting skills have been honed through years of trial and error and “here take a sip of this” is a key step in her creative process. When inspiration strikes you can find recipes and her favorite haunts on her Instagram @cocktail_curious. She is also an active member of the Japanese Tea community in Colorado where she practices the spirit of boundless guest hospitality and mindfulness in the principle of “ichi-go, ichi-e”/“one chance, meeting” taking it beyond the contemplative Tea space and into her home and community.

Dear friends and friendarinos, once again we find ourselves on under the looming eye of mother Moon. I November we celebrate the Moon as a reminder of the looming winter ahead. This is the time when our ancestors looked to the beaver's as they boarded themselves in for the winter. This is also a blood moon for the striking effects of light reflecting off the moon this time of year. Darkness is falling across the land and one can only hope they find themselves ready when the heart of cold and shadow comes beating at the door. 

Today, I will be filling in for our monthly contributor. I've selected two short pieces from previous lessons. I hope you enjoy and weather well. Blessed be! 

Life-Cycle
​
The main theme of the poem is “the life cycle.” Everything which is born eventually dies, and the cycle starts again.

The End.                                                                                              The Beginning.
The last heart beat.                                                                          The first budding leaf.
The storied skin.                                                                               The fresh clean slate.
The fruit.                                                                                             The sowing.
​
The Sweet relief.                                                                              The hopeful beginning.  

Arts Night Creative Non-Fiction

Terms – What is Creative Non-Fiction?

Creative nonfiction (also known as literary nonfiction or narrative nonfiction or literary journalism or verfabula) is a genre of writing that uses literary styles and techniques to create factually accurate narratives. Creative nonfiction contrasts with other nonfiction, such as academic or technical writing or journalism, which are also rooted in accurate fact though not written to entertain based on prose style. Many writers view creative nonfiction as overlapping with the essay. Creative nonfiction is true stories, well told. If novels are fiction and poems are, well, poetry, then what are memoirs? - credit the internet. I forget what I changed.

Tell a story well. What happened within the last week?

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell when I'm getting older. It was about a week ago from this writing that I was sitting in the waiting room of my Dermatologist people. I was always taught to arrive early for appointments. It's polite. It also gives you the chance to sit and notice things. At that time I was noticing that there are two kinds of people who go into a dermatologist's office. There are the young, suffering from puberty, and there are the old, suffering from being old. I was there for eczema on my shoulders. Eczema is when your skin decides that it hates everything and wants everyone to know it. Another thing you notice about a dermatologist's office that everyone exudes an air of shame. There's something special about skin diseases. They're hard to hide. Maybe each of us have some primal fear of being rejected from the tribe, of being unclean in their eyes. Upon receiving a prescription for some other creme that I was quit certain would never make my skin find happiness, I walked the sterile halls of the hospital. Then descended the sterile empty stairs. I found my party sitting by a nameless statue in the courtyard. It's hand was extended toward the sky behind the hospital. Then we left and navigated the abomination of city planning that was downtown Anderson. Anderson home of my Alma Matter. Another armpit of human social failure.  

Merry meets again! What can I say about the October moon that everyone doesn't already know? This is the time of year for the last harvest in the Northern Hemisphere. This is the time when the veil is thinnest and we are closest to our ancestors and loved ones. It's a time of magic, celebration, and perhaps a bit of mischief. Enjoy this wonderful time of the year and celebrate as you will. Blessed be. 
~Noah

​October 2022 Full Moon offering for Collective Aporia

DOUBLE BACK—DOUBLE MOON

The sensation of doubling back—to go back the way one has come—to dislodge what we’re stuck
on—what if we could go back in our memories, to our past selves, and offer insight from our
present?—what if we double back in order to go forward—time loop—queero helix—there will be
two successive evenings to see the full moon—double moon—where we will be able to see it rising
from the east at dusk

\\

I go back to the memory of my teenage self under a body—touch her shoulder—rise her up to stand
next to me, looking at the place she had just been

\\

You have got to goad yourself toward a becoming that is in accordance with what you are innate. You have
got to sometimes become the medicine you want to take.
―Ariana Reines, The Cow

\\

How are we supposed to imagine four Octobers from now?

\\

Hunter’s moon—never did care for the skull boil—brains falling out at the hand of a coat
hanger—bubbling bleach water—deer scraps rolled in chicken wire, hanging it for the birds to
peck—the skull mount does look good above the garage though

\\

Everyday the moths come—the little sheds—tiny gray-brown hairs—this is the undercurrent of our
timeline—releasing what we thought would anchor us—severing the palatable—how we thought
our--
this thought was interrupted by a chickadee—who braves harsh winters, feasts on bloody suet
this was four Octobers ago

\\

We buy bed frames to sleep closer to heaven—I say how do you have acrylics—they say you have to go
really slow, you should try them—it's not conducive to my lifestyle I say as if I’m fucking all the time

\\

Resurrection of ourselves—FOR THE FIRST TIME, AGAIN
FOR THE FIRST TIME, AGAIN

THIS IS A RECLAMATION
LOOP IN

LOOP IN

\\

Turn towards it—to the salt of life—instinctual body—I trace you with ice—lick—throw the cube
to the floor to melt—repeat me—you—again—back into the images of the dark

\\

We pull our own equinoxes

\\

Within this dislodgement, doubling back does not hold the promise of resolution but we enter
regardless—we situate ourselves—we make a landing place for solidarity, for showing
entanglements and ultimately, we go back for ourselves

Maura M. Modeya is a poet & performer. She’s the author of Only Interested in Everything, a poetry chapbook published by Meekling Press. Before heading west, she lived in Chicago where she focused on live performance, as well as producing oddity and storytelling shows. Her work includes themes of sapphic identity, queer westerns, eco-feminism, and the tension that emerges from using 90s/early 00s nostalgia as context for the present. The queer cowb0y as archetype is kind of everything to her and she thinks there is something telling about the first CD someone bought. Let her know yours if you see her. TLC’s CrazySexyCool was her first, purchased at a pawn shop. She holds an MFA in writing and poetics from Naropa University in Boulder, CO where she currently teaches. Find more recent projects at mauramm.com

The Harvest Moon is perhaps the most celebrated full moon in the lunar calendar. It is simultaneously self-explanatory and full of limitless story and tradition. We are barreling toward the Fall equinox. The leaves are about to change and the pumpkin armies are amassing. Enjoy this season brimming with the warmth and promises that endure us through any coming hardship.

-Noah Christie
​Aporia Blog Editor

It is my pleasure to introduce my friend and colleague in this month's spotlight , Shawnie Hamer.
~Noah

​ Bio
Shawnie Hamer (she/her) was born in the heat & dust of Bakersfield, CA. Her first book, the stove is off at home (Spuyten Duyvil, 2018) is an experimental art & poetry book curated through a community ritual focused on the identification & exorcism of trauma. Hamer is the founder of collective.aporia, an international arts collective offering monthly workshops & *apo-press. Her latest manuscript, The Rage That Raised Us (formerly The Rage That Raised Them) was a finalist in the 2021 Essay Press Book Content, judged by Ronaldo Wilson. She proudly received her MFA from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University where she was able to befriend the most inspiring group of artists she's ever met. She lives in France.

​Q&A: 
What inspired you to manifest Collective Aporia?
 
Collective.aporia was manifested from a deep longing for community. In 2018, I was traveling by myself around Europe. I purchased a one-way ticket and was planning to mosey my way around from country to country, working freelance gigs and odd jobs for room and board until the money ran out.
 
The year before, I had graduated from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University. It was there that I had been lucky to find and establish an incredible writing community (a family of writers, really) that had opened my eyes to the inspiration and influence of a collective. In fact, my entire writing process had shifted because of it. What had previously been a somewhat lonely act was now infused and supported by the love and insight of my friends/teachers.
 
Needless to say, I was missing this dearly on the road. I wished they were with me. And what’s more, I was meeting other creatives on my trip that I wished I could introduce to my community back home.
 
On New Year’s Eve 2018, I stood outside the home of an artist I was staying with in Kendal, United Kingdom, drinking cheap champagne, and a question came to me: how can I create a space for community and creativity that can be accessed by everyone at every time?
 
The next morning, I began writing down every idea I could think about it. What it would look like, how it would exist in the world. When I went back to visit Colorado that following spring, I shared the idea with Sarah Richards Graba, Swanee Astrid, and Vera Linder over cocktails in Swanee’s apartment. It was from there that we began solidifying the dream together.
 
 
What Draws you to poetry, writing, and the arts?

I view this question through the lens of two roles: writer and collective member. They are not separate by any means, but an oscillation of energy that has greatly impacted my life.
 
As a writer, really for as long as I could remember, I have been drawn to writing and reading because of its ability to recreate the world. In the pages of a text, we can reimagine both the mundane and the fantastic.
 
As a little girl, I would create forts protected by teddy bears and books, where I would go to explore both the light and dark aspects of life in the pages of my journal. It was at once a safe place (maybe the safest) while also incredibly vulnerable—a practice in taking a leap into the unchartered rooms of imagination.
 
When I finally grew enough to leave my fort, and then leave my hometown, I began to fully realize that the intentions that creatives can have for this kind of exploration, as well as the influence it can hold on society/a person’s life, was powerful. Maybe the most powerful and consistent force throughout history. I examined how creatives could bend and break the rules and edges that I was banging my head against. How they could even expand borders and boundaries of the self.
 
Now, as a JKS grad, I am obviously very influenced by Anne Waldman and the work she has done over her incredible life. Not only has she amassed an outstanding library of work, but at every step along the way, she has created radical and safe spaces for her writing communities. She has truly been in service to poetry for over 60 years.
 
It is this service that draws me to my work in the collective and the writing that ensues. I want to create texts and spaces that create homes. Places for joy, growth, and grief. Spaces for connection and empathy.
 
I want to give back to poetry and the love it’s given me. It’s this love, this radical love, that will always keep me coming back.
 
Do you have any tips for others that want to do what you do?
 
The first (and most important) is to find your people! Collective.aporia would not have been and would not be without the steadfast volunteers and friends that dedicate their time and care to it. Find the people who believe in your vision, that are not afraid to challenge and expand it, and that want to see it manifest with the same level of excitement as you do.
 
The second is to try to not do everything at once. It’s a sure-fire way to burnout, but it’s also really enticing. Find the focus of your dream and work diligently on that. Once you’re established, then you can begin expanding your operations.
 
Lastly, don’t get so caught up in your service that you let your own creative practices go to the wayside. It is so easy to do; I’ve done it and I’ve seen so many others do it, too. You must fill your own cup before you can fill anyone else’s. Not only is a form of self-care, but it’s also important to remember that being a collective member requires creativity. If that well is dry, your participation, and therefore the organization itself, will suffer.

Devotion Sequence
​
I. Primary Desire

In the beginning it was just this: all the known things we can no longer see. That you no longer know. The moment the ice breaks. The water freezes. The smell of spices on the stove.

I come to you now, and I’ve all but forgotten. The first inclining towards divine, loving you.

As I prepared to leave, the ghosts descended. To help me pack my belongings, nothing actually mine. The dusty altar candles, the string of orange lights, the books stacked one by one. The home I created at once sacred infestation:

                                         A queue of spirits knocking on the door.
                                         An army of mice under the sink.
                                         The neighbor with the shotgun under my feet.

It was here I told you of my dreams. The way the sheets moved under and around our bodies. The ancestor with the tendency to push her hands down on my chest, to see, she said. You have to stay here to see.

So, I left.

Sold my 28 years piece by piece in the front yard. To strangers with noisy minivans and sweaty pits. Much to the neighbors’ chagrin. What is it about travelers that we find so intriguing, untrustworthy? Abandoning the address, the daily routine, must mean something is amiss.

It’s true, something’s not right. The wall you helped me build is crumbling, and I can do nothing to fortify the structure.

I’ve also grown fond of hallucinating, in red wine and cigarette haze. Watching the faeries. Playing Sound & Color on repeat as I see the future appear in front of me, through the pines. The Eiffel Tower, your coming. The hot lightness of my body in the claw foot tub or the Mediterranean Sea.

You don’t believe me, but I didn’t flee. I didn’t realize it at the time. No, back then when we sat on benches and snowy bar patios, I told you I was desperate to escape. The 12-hour work days, pouring drinks and teaching APA to community college warriors. The way your eyes changed when you mentioned her name. The feeling—no, the knowing—that this city, every city, is just out of reach.

All the things you knew deeply when you first arrived aren’t known here, the past life reader explains when I ask about love.

Here’s what I know for sure:

I learned the most about God when I defied the people who guarded the gates. Breached the baptismal pool, wet and heavy. Imagined the faces—the ones not readily available in such a dusty town. The ones in foreign lands, who called to God differently. Or not at all. And when I called upon the broken stewards outside of the city limits, I opened to the possibility. The holiness of the underbelly. God is not stationary, like the pronunciation of a word. But rather is people, which is to say, never still. A movement. To surrender to the unknown often means saying goodbye. 

Here’s what I know for sure: To find God travel was to find the ability to love you.

The Full Moon in July (07/13/2022) is often referred to as the Buck Moon. The reason being that this is the time of year when deer antlers are in full growth. Many meanings come from this moon. It is also called the Meadow Moon or Blessing Moon. It is a time to see summer in full fruition. This is also the time to begin looking ahead to fall. The season is in full swing, but we should not forget that summer doesn't last forever. Enjoy this time of growth and plenty and also prepare for when the summer passes. Blessings and thanks to you all and our contributor. 
~Noah

I hope you all are having a most blessed summer. Here we have a full Moon offering from our friend, Lindsey Higo.
​Blessed be. 
~Noah D. C.

Hello fellow moonbaskers and stargazers, 
Summer heat is arriving fast, and my garden flourishes after the toils of spring planting. The Strawberry Moon, known also as the Honey or Mead moon, will arrive on June 14th, just one week ahead of the solstice.  In many regions, June is the time that fruiting plants, like strawberries and their relatives, are gathered and fill our baskets to bursting.  I often draw on these two words, abundance and gathering, when I welcome people into my social circle or space, especially around the Summer Solstice, as it is a day much anticipated in our home.  
An added level of excitement nudges at my thoughts as this will also be one of the supermoons of 2022.  There is something so breathtaking as the moon crests over the horizon, appearing to swell and fill the sky.  I’ve been known to stop what I’m doing, dash outside and take a few deep breaths as my skin tingles under its bright glow. The Strawberry Moon will be 222,238.4 miles (357,658km) from us, which in Earth miles is so far, yet in space might as well be next door. Regardless, you may be tempted to reach out… just to see if you can touch it after all.
My days around the solstice used to be bustling with activity (moon basking aside). I made a point to seek out friends and welcome them into my home or garden.  The bonds of these relationships grow a little differently on a summer evening. When the sun’s light turns soft, and the moon begins its ascent, the warm air mixes with the soft chorus of nature, urging us to slow down and recover from the heat of the day. It’s this perfect combination that invites people to linger at a gathering.  In light of the changing world, the pace of my solstice celebrations has slowed and the gathering has grown smaller and more intimate, making the time I spend with others so precious. 
Even without the crowd of years past, I am still determined to prepare an appropriate offering to toast the season.  This determination is not only rooted in being a good host but also as a cocktail enthusiast. While my journey with spirited beverages started as many of ours do, in the rowdy yards and packed homes of university students it was the years afterward, spent carefully reading, experimenting and tasting my way around the world that has given me an appreciation for the craft that I can’t help but share. Making and offering a flavorful balanced drink is an experience.  You aren’t just combining liquids: there is a thoughtfulness for the occasion and an understanding of what flavors and palate suits your guest- especially during festive times of the year. I love the chance to give my guests something unique! There's a thrilling challenge to finding the right flavors to associate with celebrations and keep my guests' tastes a top priority. I hope with that inspiration and spirit in mind you will take time and join me in preparing a libation fit for toasting the light of the summer moon, solstice and in appreciation for those close to you.
Strawberry Gin Punch
Ingredients:
3oz gin of your choice: I recommend one with floral botanicals. Consider Empress 1908, The Botanist or Hendricks Midsummer Solstice. This spirit will be the heart of your drink so if the urge compels you, charge it under the full moon with the intention to share the abundance you have with those you are imbibing with.
1.5oz strawberry syrup: Create with the intention of sharing the bounty in your life whether it’s food, friends or family. Easily crafted with 5-6 large strawberries (sliced), 1 cup water and ½ cup honey, bring to a simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until strawberries are very soft. Set aside until cool. Strain off the syrup into an airtight container. You can save the berry bits for later, for a simple jam for toast or for your compost or garden.
 .75oz fresh lemon juice: Draw in happiness and friendship. Embrace the lemon’s tartness to balance the sweetness of your other ingredients.
Fresh rosemary sprigs: Gather from your garden or wherever you find herbs to encourage love for the self and those around you. Rosemary will also help lure out the botanical flavors present in the gin you have chosen.
1.5-2oz sweet sparkling wine or mead: A nod to European nicknames for this moon, you will top your cocktail with happiness and love. June is a traditional month for marriages but feel free to expand that energy into relationships both romantic and platonic, love abounds.
Preparation:
Combine all liquids, except for wine/mead, and several rosemary needles into a cocktail shaker.  Add ice and shake about 15-30 seconds until the shaker is frosted over in your hand.  Pour into your favorite stemmed glassware pre-chilled, until ¾ full. Top with wine or mead and garnish with a fresh sprig of rosemary.
This recipe will yield two cocktails*, so invite someone into your garden or onto the porch for a sip and ask them to stay awhile. 
*You can also scale this recipe up for a communal punch bowl or pitcher to pass around, chill all ingredients in advance, combine, stir well in your container and top with your wine or mead just before guests arrive. Add an ice block or ice ring to keep it cool while you entertain.
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Lindsey Higo is a spirited hostess living in Denver, Colorado, who spends time puttering around her patio garden, reading on a dark and stormy night (or any night for that matter) and entertaining.  Her cocktail crafting skills have been honed through years of trial and error and “here take a sip of this” is a key step in her creative process. When inspiration strikes you can find recipes and her favorite haunts on her Instagram @cocktail_curious.  She is also an active member of the Japanese Tea community in Colorado where she practices the spirit of boundless guest hospitality and mindfulness in the principle of “ichi-go, ichi-e”/“one time, one meeting” taking it beyond the contemplative Tea space and into her home and community.
 

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