The last full moon of winter.Ā Ā
If you missed her on Saturday, according to NASA, sheāll appear full in most places until today.
Native Americans called this the Snow Moon. As bad weather made finding food difficult, she was also Bony Moon, Hunger Moon or Little Famine Moon.Ā
The moon normally accompanies our sleep. Now she floods our eyes with light.Ā
From the Chinese lunar year to the Hebrew holidays, ancient cultures revered the power of the moonās cycles. Less sleep meant celebration, togetherness. But itās also release, awakening.
What are we waking up to? What canāt we avoid seeing?
We canāt unsee Aaron Bushnell on fire at the Israeli embassy in D.C., screaming āFree Palestineā until his last breath. His last words:
āI will no longer be complicit in genocide. I'm about to engage in an extreme act of protest, but compared to what people are experiencing in Palestine [ā¦] itās not extreme at all.ā
I couldnāt stop crying this morning at the thought of: ācompar[atively].. itās not extreme at allā. Thich Nhat Hanhās words to MLK Jr. about monksā self-immolation during the Vietnam War (shared by anti-Zionist Israeli Yuval Mann) offer some comfort:
Other thoughts I collected to honor Aaronās life and death:
He was an active member of San Antonio, Texasā mutual aid community, working to support the homeless/unhoused.
People who knew him called him a ākind and gentle soulā. He was a massive fan of Les Miserables, and would sing One Day More at karaoke.
Not a word from the NYT after their first half-hearted article, which didnāt mention he was protesting the war (since rectified). Nothing about hundreds of anti-zionist Jewish protestors flooding NBC Studios in New York last night to protest Bidenās complicity in war crimes.
What is there for us to become awake to that we have been hiding from ourselves?Ā
What we breathe when we say famine
This morning I saw a photo of a child from before the war, and after she starved to death in Gaza some days ago. Iām not sharing it. But every sentient adult should know whatās happening:
At the end of last year,
of posted a 50-year-old essay by Mahmoud Darwish. (Darwish was a Palestinian exile and poet whose village was captured in the Nakba in 1948.) Itās called āSilence for Gazaā. Hereās an excerpt:Enemies might triumph over Gaza (the storming sea might triumph over an island. . . they might chop down all its trees).
They might implant tanks on the insides of its children and women.
They might throw it into the sea, sand, or blood. [ā¦]
It is neither death, nor suicide.
It is Gazaās way of declaring that it deserves to live.ā
From the Washington Post three days ago:
We know famines are carried out on purpose.Ā
That was the case with the Native Americans.
The Irish famine and the Bengal famines (of 1943, and 1770, killing 3 and 10 million respectively) weakened and starved colonial populations.Ā
When we keep our noses to the grindstone, minding our own business, it can mean losing touch with our ability to feel.
The wisdom of feeling.Ā
Donāt give up hope.
I cannot thank you enough, Mary Clare. Keep your heart strong and bright.