The Moon Hut: A Place Of Renewal - Poem & Journal Prompt

00:30

03:16

The Moon Hut: A Place Of Renewal - Poem & Journal Prompt

Rated

5

Type

talks

Activity

Meditation

Suitable for

Everyone

Plays

3

The Moon hut is an imaginative place where we can go when we feel overwhelmed by the activity of our minds, and the World. The poem can be used as a springboard for journalling or creating your own poem. There might be lines that stand out to you which you'd like to use for a writing prompt. Writing a journal entry or poem can be deeply nourishing at a soul level. For example the last line - "I have never felt so held or loved" might help you bring to mind when you have felt like this, or you might use your imagination to create the feeling.

Evening Reflection Practice Sensory Rest Heart Space Awareness Imagination Poetry Journaling Emotional Resilience Ancestral Connection Nature Inner Peace Emotional Healing Imaginative Journey

Meet your Teacher

St John's Town of Dalry, Castle Douglas DG7 3XP, UK

Meet your Teacher

St John's Town of Dalry, Castle Douglas DG7 3XP, UK

Transcript

Hello, This poem is called The Moon Hot and it's an imaginative place I like to go to when my own mind and the world gets too much so that I can rest and nourish myself. And it might be an inspiration for you to also write a poem or a reflection in your journal. About what it is about the world or how you use your mind that can be overwhelming and where you like to go to to find that rest and respite of the moon hot. Our minds have fingers. There is so much that they want to touch. Are hearts plump or real in shock? From the impact of what we choose. Some days our thoughts are happy dogs running on ahead. Harmless as bees s'moring to the next comfrey patch. Sometimes all fingers and thumbs we have to double back. It is a daily discipline to decide how much of the world's injustices we let into our minds and why. We could be incandescent with righteous rage every second of every minute of every hour. Our collected grief could raise the sea level overnight. But we can't take ecocide with us on every walk, Even though it whines and scratches at the door as we lace up our boots. It is joy too we are here on the earth to spend. It is celebration and active reverence. Rest. And sacred depth. That give us the energy and courage to make our best difference. So we write ourselves into a poem. That follows an undulating path. Into the deeper mountains. It plateaus at a moon hot. As round as the encircling arms of a she-bear. Inside there is a pot-bellied stove that warms us through to our bones. The walls are draped. With heavy tapestries of everyone we have ever loved. Human and third. Our ancestors cocoon us in sand-washed silks. And the feathers of snow geese. For forty days and forty nights they feed us sweet chestnuts. And wild heather honey from a runcible spoon. And they stroke the despondency from our brows. Wolves howl their songs across the tundra to each other and to us. A snake coiled on a thick rug waits to shed her skin with us. We have never felt so held or loved.