Before you assume this is another article about astrology, let me clarify… it is not. I know very little about astrology.

This is a story about my relationship with the moon, a strange experience I could never fully explain, and the questions that experience opened within me.

But before I share that day, I need to go back in time.

Many years ago, as I began developing my spiritual gifts, I started deeply tuning myself into the rhythms of the moon.

Not through my monthly bleed, for that had already ended when I was 38. This connection came later, in my 40s.

I became deeply attuned to her phases. I could recognize them. I could feel her medicine. I could feel the quiet wisdom of her cycles.

The moon carried a beautiful soma energy — a life-giving presence, a gentle illumination in the darkness of night.

I loved her.

I honored her.

And my relationship with her grew so deeply that I began offering full moon gong, yoga, and meditation evenings.

These were some of the most magical experiences I have ever facilitated.

For ten years we gathered under her light, and even today clients still speak about those ceremonies.

They were not simply events.

They were experiences.

They were moments of connection.

I have created many ceremonies with the moon. I have made mandalas, drummed beneath her light naked, placed altar items in her honor, and celebrated her energy in countless ways.

I was truly devoted to her power.

During this time, I was introduced to a spiritual council of wise crones who called themselves the Grand Mother Moons.

Through my relationship with these Grand Mothers, I developed courses and teachings. To this day, I continue to offer monthly ceremonies with this beautiful council of spirit guides.

And then one day…

I looked into the sky and saw two moons.

At first, I thought perhaps I was mistaken.

Earlier that morning, I had watched the moon moving across the daylight sky, eventually disappearing as she normally does.

Later that afternoon, I looked southward and saw another object in the sky.

It was large.

It was bright.

It had the shape and appearance of a three-quarter moon.

It was so similar to the moon that my first reaction was confusion.

Had I misunderstood what I was seeing?

Had my eyes deceived me?

For a moment, I questioned my own perception.

So I did what many of us do in this modern world.

I searched.

I asked.

I looked for an explanation.

The information I found suggested it was a rare sighting of a planet.

But something about that answer did not settle within me.

The sighting did not last long. The object disappeared. It never made the news. No one talked about it.

And yet…

I could not simply forget it.

Not long afterward, during a full moon, I stepped outside to gaze upon her.

And something was different.

Very different.

The feeling I had always known was gone.

The warmth.

The nurturing.

The loving embrace.

The familiar medicine I had felt for years.

Instead, she felt distant.

And she was incredibly bright — so bright that it almost felt like I needed sunglasses to look at her.

Something had changed.

I decided to journey with the Grand Mothers and ask.

In my shamanic path, I often journey with my guides when I seek understanding. Spirit rarely speaks in direct explanations. Instead, Spirit speaks through symbols, images, and metaphors.

The messages are not always meant to be taken literally.

They are meant to be felt.

So we journeyed.

The Grand Mothers took me to what appeared to be the back side of the moon — the dark moon, the side humanity does not see.

There, we entered what felt like a portal.

And what I experienced was unlike anything I had imagined.

The moon was not what I thought it was.

It appeared to be less like a solid planet and more like a great vessel of light.

A reflective outer shell.

A hollow sphere.

Inside was a vast mechanical system of illumination, almost like a giant light source.

A structure.

A space of some kind.

And at the center were floating buildings.

The message was simple.

They changed the lightbulb.

That was it.

They changed the lightbulb.

Years later, I still smile at that message because Spirit often has a sense of humor.

But perhaps the deeper question is not whether the moon literally changed.

Perhaps the question is:

What happens when the light we have always known shifts?

What happens when something familiar begins showing us something new?

Over the past year, something else has shifted.

My monthly offering, the Grand Mother Moon Ceremonies, has evolved.

The ceremonies have become less about the moon herself and more about the medicine of the Grand Mothers.

The wisdom.

The healing.

The gathering of women in sacred circle.

The remembering.

Recently, a dear friend lovingly called me out.

She asked:

“Help me understand. If you don’t feel the energy and power of the moon as you once did, why do you continue to offer Grand Mother Moon Ceremonies?”

What a beautiful question.

And honestly, it was a question worth sitting with.

The answer came quickly.

The ceremonies are not less important.

If anything, they have become deeper.

But something was no longer in alignment.

The title.

Originally, the Grand Mother Moons came to me as a way of understanding the cycles of women, the rhythms of creation, and the wisdom held within the moon.

But now?

Now the Grand Mothers gather because they are a council of wisdom.

They gather because healing happens in circle.

They gather because there is medicine in remembering that we are never alone.

Yes, many ceremonies still happen beneath the light or darkness of the moon.

But the moon is no longer the centre of the teaching.

The Grand Mothers are.

What did I see that day when I saw two moons?

Perhaps it was a rare astronomical event.

Perhaps it was something I still cannot explain.

Perhaps it was a message delivered through the language Spirit uses with me — through symbols and mystery.

Did I imagine it?

Absolutely not.

That experience changed something within me.

It invited me to question.

It invited me to look deeper.

It invited me to move beyond what I thought I knew.

And perhaps that was the true gift.

Because sometimes the things we love most must change so we can discover what was underneath all along.

The Grand Mother Moons were never only about the moon.

They were about wisdom.

They were about compassion.

They were about remembering.

They were about gathering together in sacred circle and walking each other home.

Perhaps the moon was simply the doorway.

Aho

_{Transparency:}

_{My articles are first written from my human words and inspiration of real life experiences and then I take them to AI for tweaks and suggestions. Images created by AI.}

Those sweet impromptu moments can never be planned. Somehow the stars, the moon, and the timing synchronize just enough to bring beloved friends together.

My life is busy.

Not the kind of busy we typically define as calendars filled with appointments, social engagements, and running children in a million different directions. We don’t have children.

My busy is different.

It is a life filled with caregiving. Even that word doesn’t quite fit. It’s not about helping someone bathe or preparing meals. It’s the constant negotiation of actions, thoughts, emotions, and temperaments because we live with dementia.

My beloved friend is busy too.

She is navigating her own impossible season—running a business while advocating and fighting for the life of her husband as he battles the Big C.

We are both exhausted.

Our resources are stretched thin. Scheduled tea dates often feel impossible. Some days we barely show up for ourselves.

And yet, here we are.

On a whim, sitting in one of our favorite

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cafés, laughing at the absurdity of the paths life has placed before us.

Did we truly sign up for this?

Perhaps we did.

Perhaps our souls knew more than our human hearts could comprehend.

We both understand that our presence for one another is medicine. Yet, much like a child resisting the very remedy they need, we often lack the energy required to arrange the meeting that would nourish us most.

But here we are.

Together.

Two precious hours before one of us reaches our limit.

The conversation dives deep immediately—fast, effective, emotional, raw, and vulnerable.

Then we surface briefly for air.

Three bites of cheesecake.

A sip of matcha.

A laugh.

And then we dive back in.

Eventually the conversation shifts toward the absurdity of it all. We search for humour among the chaos, finding small pockets of light within the heaviness.

Our lives seem to move in tandem. We often find ourselves navigating remarkably similar experiences in our businesses, relationships, and personal growth. It’s uncanny, really.

And perhaps because our journeys mirror one another so closely, we don’t see each other often. A text here. A message there. No pressure. No expectations. No demands.

During our time together, we came to an important realization.

We don’t feel obligated to rescue one another during every crisis. We don’t carry guilt for the moments when life prevents us from showing up in the ways we wish we could.

Our friendship was built upon a strong foundation long before these difficult seasons arrived.

That kind of friendship is rare.

We know the broad strokes of each other’s struggles. We understand the weight each of us carries. More importantly, we share an inner knowing born from walking through our own storms.

There are no unrealistic expectations between us.

Only understanding.

Only grace.

And so, with a collective exhale, we settled into a conversation that was supportive, nurturing, and healing enough to bridge the distance that time had created.

We arrived carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders.

Less than two hours later, we parted with hugs, “I love yous,” and no promises beyond what we genuinely had the capacity to offer.

It was enough.

More than enough.

And honestly?

It was the best lemon poppy seed cake and hazelnut ganache cheesecake I’ve ever tasted.

Aho.

It is now several hours passed her due time and she has not relinquished any of her power.

This wind feels different…

Since our arrival here last fall in our new home that is situated on a couple of acres the land lies differently. Once we were surrounded by the forest almost up to the door, but this home has trees on the perimeter of the property with large open fields for grazing behind us and the end of a highway at our front door. This landscape changes how the elements move through it.

It is now 2 am of the next morning and she is still as powerful as she was at 9am yesterday.

I listen and wonder is she raging?

Is she angry?

Is she frustrated with humanity?

What drives her so?

Where did she come from? What may have provoked her?

Did someone, something piss her off?

And why on Earth do we believe if the wind has force, she is angry, revengeful, or mad?

Could she just be out for a vigorous run?

Several years ago, when I was in my shamanic training, we had the opportunity to journey to the spirit of the wind. I can still see the imagery she shared with me. She was out in a field surrounded by sand, and she picked up the sand, and they danced like long lost lovers had been together for centuries. They knew each other step before each breath. I was so taken by her abilities and grace.

Should I journey to her tonight and see what she wants to share with me?

In many cultures and traditions, it is important to know which way the wind is blowing from. The directions tell a story. This wind is blowing from the South, and she has an ally with her and it’s name is dust. They have paired up and have literally been on a roll. The kind that can carve mountains, sculpt sand dunes and raise the tides of the sea to incredible heights.

One must pause when the winds are powerful enough to interrupt the NHL playoffs with bands of red warnings across the television screen.

If we follow the principles of so within, so without or the microcosm and the macrocosm then one must ask themselves what kind of wind is blowing within me right now in my body? And I’m not talking about a little flatulence. If I am not separate from nature, then I am also this wind.

So I reflect.

What is this forceful wind blowing within me right now?

And

Which philosophy should I give a closer look at?

The old teachings always told us to pay attention to the direction of the wind.
Direction matters.
Story matters.
Origin matters.

If we look to the Andean teachings perhaps the wind of the South is speaking about the medicine of the Serpent and it’s time to really shed our skin. Take off the blind folds of who we believe ourselves to be. To remove the rose-colored glasses and see ourselves as we truly are. And what that looks like for you and me are different aren’t they.

If we lean towards the indigenous cultures across the prairies like the Cree, Anishinaabe, Lakota,

Dakota, Blackfoot, and the Métis, each will have differences in their teachings. No doubt the winds would be messengers from the ancestors, movers of change, emotional stirrings or wanting to awaken what has been dormant. We could add bringing purpose of emotional upheaval, what within us is asking to be cleansed through chaos.

Just the elements alone of the wind and the dust what arises in your being? What is being reshaped? What has you blinded? Where it’s power can reshape and land us crippled reminding us to be humble in her wake?

So much to feel into. Her powerful force would be for naught if we don’t take the time to listen to her and bring her message within.

And her direction…

Sometimes southern energy arrives fiercely to shake loose what has become rigid. Warm winds can awaken storms. Heat can expose fragility.

If you sit with the wind long enough all the dots connect.

It is now 3 am and she is still speaking across the prairie.
Through dust.
Through force.
Through movement.
Reshaping the landscape outside my window and the one within me.

Aho

Read more

• Do not feel guilty to take care of yourself

• Practice affirmations: “ I love having $ for what it provides for me and my family”

• Money is a resourceful tool. What can you do with that tool?

• Look at yourself from a birds eye view (detached) and tell yourself to not neglect her/him

• You are never too deep to turn things around (debt, shame, guilt), there is always a way once your decide be open to pivot this decision makes you realize what you are worth and what you deserve

• Well there you have it. Don’t miss this episode it’s worth a listen.

Please leave a comment, share and like. These actions are always appreciated.

The book Amy recommends is “The Surrender Experiment”.

Aho
Blessings,
Blue Thunder Bird Woman