We’re out on Hackney Marshes, passing Lammas Meadow where wild cows used to graze. Everything is covered in a bloom of hoar frost, and the winter sky is stuck in a perpetual sunset. Possibly, quite possibly, the aurochs used to roam here in the distant past, horns raised to the full belly of the Moon after Yule. Native Americans and some European cultures call this the Wolf Moon – longer nights and scarcer food make their cries more frequent.
This Full Moon is in the rune of Uruz, the spirit of the aurochs. Like the wolf, this vast herd animal is just a memory in the UK, but unlike the wolf, it has been a memory everywhere for hundreds of years now.
So perhaps this Full Moon is really a Moon of unforgetting. If the howling of wolves prompted our ancestors to stay safe indoors, what does the silence of their absence mean? What has already departed to the shores of the otherworld that we now feel only as a void—a heart of darkness within our civilized, withering, self-consuming world?
If you’re thinking—nice way to cheer me up, Maggie—then sorry. Here’s a little bit of cheer for you:
You can’t fix all of the problems of the world because that will take many hands. So just for today, remember the Moon of the Wolf is also the Moon after Yule. It’s not about looking ahead with trepidation; it’s about looking behind with reverence.
What did you do that filled your heart with hope and gave you energy? (Our Marshes walk was over 3 hours, and I loved every minute.) What did you do that brought you peace? What did you do that gave you connection? What did you do that made you strong?
Traditionally a part of the old year’s Yule Log was kept to feed the next Yule fire. Take a moment to gather the treasures of the old year to feed the new.
