A tiny spider has made a web in the tiny tunnel of my scrying stone. Thank you, tiny spider teacher, for modeling tiny opportunistic weaving. In the spirit of resonance, I’m going to try this, too. Today, I’m trying it with a short, sweet, windblown, leaf-rustling, mostly unedited glimpse into a learning edge of mine, a feeling into the ways I orient my (amateur and effective) divination practice.
I’m naming this glimpse Moonday School, and maybe it’s a tolling, resonant invitation—maybe it’s opening up a space for a new kind of episode, an intimate walk-around-with-me experiment in inquiry. Maybe I’ll let similar experiments fly semi-regularly, on Mondays / Moon Days. A little riddling, a little offering, a tiny curious hum to start the week.
Our seven-day week comes from ancient Babylonian astrologers who named each day for a heavenly body. Monday is “Moon Day.” Let’s say it’s a good day, then, for loony things, moonlit alignments, wave patterns, watery alliances: a good day for resonance, for walking with mysteries, for wide-boundary entangled co-learning.
Kids ask each other, with such simplicity, “do you want to play with me?” Thank you, kid teachers! Come play with me, y’all, if you want to. Listen in, speak back.
Welcome to Moonday School.
