A Blood Prayer To The Full Moon

Lovers this has been a long-time coming. Some time ago, during a Blood Moon in 2016, I was feeling a really strong pull towards the Moon, as a lot of us I think were around that time. A pull to our roots, to our nature, to our ancestors, to our magic. Then, during a particularly strong moon, I got my period. I felt connected, completely. Blood, water, earth and air, ancestry and fire. They were all there. I sat down in front of my laptop, and wrote a prayer. I put it away. On another Full Moon I was pulled toward my prayer and I started drawing. And so on and so forth, for the past couple of years, when I bleed to the Full Moon, when She has called for me, I have replied by working on this prayer. I believe it is a spell in the making, a work of art to connect us to our bodies, to connect us to nature. It is a Bleeder’s prayer, but it is not only for bleeders. It is for the Bodies that miss Themselves. That feel disconnected. It is a call back home from the soil. Today, March 1st 2018, there is another Full Moon and I now offer this prayer to you, finally, to speak to you. It is not only about blood but about belief, identity, and our own godliness. I hope you find yourself somewhere in there. If you feel inspired by it, read below for a call to bleeder stories and art.

I wish the energy of the Full Moon may remind you of your humanity in any way that allows you to be compassionate with yourself and those around you tonight. Let us offer all our pain, all our sorrows, to the Esoil, that in this day and age is so filled with blood. Let us remember the Cycle, surrender to it, and in Faith, offer our healing to it as well. Let us cry for those that have died deaths in blood, and breathe in our own lives, with the knowing that they are free from the Earth’s troubles now.

A Blood Prayer to the Full Moon, but also to You, brother, sister, sibling, who remains alive in a bloody life.

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A Shunned Miracle, A Stolen Secret, A Raging Storm. Waters Fluctuate. I only speak to the ones that understand.

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My body prayed to the Full Moon and she prayed back in aches and groans…I mirrored the Moon and she mirrored back in Spells and Blood
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I am shedding a past that was also a future, it is all of time And it is everywhere, pouring out of me…Into the Earth, into its grave, into the soil, to feed, and give life

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perfect creatures

drowning in salt water

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FIN

(((Full Prayer BELOW)))

I heard a song about a girl named Lucy
Maybe that’s who’s listening now
Dear Lucy…

Listen,
I can feel the moon pulling at me
It’s willowing in the loins of the Earth,
under my belly.
It used to whisper “womanhood” now I’m not sure what it says
but I know it’s magic

Dear Lucy

I’m bleeding,

And it is a miracle that they tell me not to talk about.
“It is innapropriate” they say,
to speak about the blood
that connects me to the water
of creation itself
A Shunned Miracle,
A Stolen Secret,
A Raging Storm.
Waters Fluctuate.
I only speak to the ones that understand.

I was praying to the moon
and your name came up
with the twinkling of the stars
a myth
told only by moonlight
Of a girl

In the sky with diamonds

she too bleeds
she bleeds stardust
the ashes that create us

My body prayed to the full moon and she prayed back
in  aches and groans
I mirrored the moon
and she mirrored back
In spells and Blood

I am shedding a past that was also a future
it is all of time
and it is everywhere
Pouring out of me

And into the earth
Into its grave
into the soil
to feed and give life

And once a month my shadow whispers my  name

as I get on my knees
And howl to the moons
And it chants secrets to me in my dreams

The chanting

Of all those women
with the same stories
all of fire. earth. water. blood.

The stories we wrote about
the girls we fell in love with
and the boys who broke our hearts

the stories about the perfect creatures we wanted to be,
and the tragically imperfect beings we found we were.
Imperfect, but magical. Bleeding. Alive.

This is not for those that do not hear it
but for us who can’t ignore it.
This is not for those who face the ocean
thinking they would come out alive
but for those that surrendered to it,
drowning our fears and baptizing our selves with salt water
In the name of Life.

For those reborn once a month.
For those who believe in the magic. Our magic.

Were I to ever forget
the moon is there reminding,
the cycle demanding

a blood sacrifice monthly.
And i remain always
its loving servant

If you’re an artist and were inspired by this and wish to be a part of an exposition that features these type of vibes in 2019, write me at: maelle@colormaelle.com

Also, Looking for bleeder stories of ALL bodies, special invite to trans bodies and other-abled bodies.

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Water and Wifi.

Yes this is exactly what I was talking about.

It’s funny how subtle it is in the world, like butterfly wings somewhere far from where we are now; and yet how powerfully full of Matter and Significance it is to me, that is just feels like the whole universe around me conspired for that moment, speaking to me, to the participants of that moment, daring us to listen.

The day I met Olivia, when we were returning, my mother and I were driving to her house as the sun was in golden hour and beautiful. I felt magical. Driving past my not-yet-complete house I saw some kids hiding in the building. I wanted to know who they were, so I got out of the car to meet them. A little one peeked out from underneath saying he was watching his herd of sheep; maybe he said it a little too fast so I told him, “it’s fine, this is just my house and I want to know who’s here.” I smiled at him hopefully reassuringly and peeked into the structure to see who else was around. It was about 3 kids, young teenage boys. I smiled at them, totally reassured and still carried from the magic of meeting Olivia, convinced that all of this was serendipity.

After a brief greeting and looking at them each in the eyes so that I saw who they were, I told them they were welcomed to be in and around the house, so long as they took care of it. They shyly smiled and consented and I walked away, content.

Half an hour later they came over, with the same shy smiles and hesitant behavior. They wanted to know if I could give them some water.

Before I continue my story, let me explain something about my intentions with my house. It has been the continuous result of the combined creative efforts and hard work of my mom, dad, and myself. I want it to be a labor of love, for it to constantly have that energy be put in it, we have amazing people working on that house for us, and have a beautiful design to work on. I’d like it to be a center for community. For people to come here and feel safe. That if I cannot give them something, they can find the way to get it themselves in the house whether it be food, water, shelter, peace, art, love, quiet, connection, or their own personal magic. But in order to be a part of the community, I have to know the community. Being of vastly different social worlds, and me having my own fiercely introverted tendencies, getting to know the community was something I had no idea of how to do.

So, let’s come back to the situation of these young teenage boys out in the campo watching their sheep asking me if I can give them water.

Oh my God yes, a thousand times yes. I run into my mom’s house, somehow so excited about this opportunity to provide these kids with something so basic as water. I know they have houses, and go to school, and that they have water too. But they’re here now asking me for water and extending an Olive Branch (oh Olivia) and so I say yes, oh my God yes.

We talk for a bit, I ask them their names and what they’re doing. Neither of us really sure what to say to the other and yet still politely observing the other, I imagine I looked weird to them with short faded cartoon-yellow hair, thick glasses and whatever couch-potato frock I was wearing. One of them mumbled something, and then they all laughed. “What?” I asked. They all laughed nervously but no one told me what they wanted. I teased them for not wanting to share their joke with me to which one of them replied “we wanted to know if you had internet?” I laughed. “You want the Wi-Fi password?” and laughed at myself, and how beautiful and funny the situation was. Water and the Wi-Fi password. That’s what the community wants. I can do that. I gave the 6 boys I had just collected on my mom’s yard and gave them the Wi-Fi password. We exchanged pleasantries, and then I said goodbye, and came upstairs into my mom’s house glowing with the day.

What a completely magical day it had been. This was how I communicated with the universe. I could hear it and it was glorious.

Today, the boys came back. Just for water this time. I came downstairs and asked them what they were up to. “Watching the sheep” was the answer. “What do you guys do over there?” I asked, motioning towards my house structure. “Jugar futbol” they said.

I smiled. “Well, I’m going to go over there in a bit to hang out at the house, you guys can stay or go”. They asked me if they should wait for me. “Do whatever you want” I said smiling. They smiled back and nodded in a way that seemed to say they were going to wait. It made me feel important.

I changed into clothes that were a bit more appropriate for outside and grabbed candles and incense to clear the energy in the house, something I try to do regularly. I went there followed by three of the boys and we were joined by three more at the house. As I walked into the house to look around, they all came and followed me around as well. I felt odd suddenly, with this unexpected shadow, so I tried to explain why I was lighting candles and incense in the house. After filling up the awkward silence with what must have sounded like ramblings of a crazy woman, I asked them where in the house they liked to hang out more. They pointed to what would be my bedroom. We went in there and they tossed a soccer ball around and while half the group seemed comfortable with me there and began to act more naturally (after me telling them that I wasn’t going to faint at his mention of a curse word) the other half of the group hid behind their hands or each other. The more confident

half of the group relished in the second half’s shyness and made fun of it. This made them break out of their shell for just a moment, and then suddenly they were all six of them, maybe for just a few minutes, existing in trueness. In beautiful trueness. Kids that play futbol, kids that want the Wi-Fi password. Kids that are just as curious about me as I am about them. I smiled and was grateful to See.

After about thirty minutes I came home to work.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now, because I’m very introverted and strict about my space and time. I like to give and be generous but always on my own terms. But I also want to learn about the people around me, provide for them some kind of richness the way they do for me. And also, magic happens when we let go. And by God I’ll let go. I’ll let go all I have to if it means being free to keep Seeing.IMG_20180105_174541578.jpg

The Day I Met Olivia

At the memorial of a friend yesterday I met Olivia. I felt like I had seen her, or met her, but I needed to speak to her, I needed to know her again, to hear her, regardless of whether I had met her already or not. I saw her and I felt I had to know her. I went up to her and said just that, “Hi I don’t know if we know each other but I feel like I need to know you.” Olivia in her perfect voice full of depth, story, tenderness, Olivia in her full confident presence immediately welcomed me with a “we don’t know each other, but that is so sweet”. I sat next to her and we had a conversation that I suppose, natural to the day’s occasion, began with death. How San Miguel de Allende brings magical people together, and it’s “a good city to die”. I had never thought of San Miguel like that, as my experience was on another specter of life. But now that I had, I saw San Miguel totally differently. Our conversation flowed from politics to identity to philosophy in through in such a natural stream of consciousness that it was one of those exquisite moments in life that make you breathe truly and deeply. We had conversations about race and the way we relate to ourselves through identity where she gave me new ways to see things I felt I needed new perspective in, more properly experienced wisdom. And Olivia was that. No hyperboles, an actor who loves the art, a whole human being of a person who I feel graced to have met and spoken to.

Once the sun went down everyone went home. We did not exchange numbers or contacts. We simply trusted San Miguel to bring us back together. I tried to thank her for the conversation, but words failed me.