Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees
-Mary Oliver "Wage Peace"

Mary Oliver's poem is reminiscent of the Tibetan Buddhist tonglen practice, a powerful technique for spiritual transformation. One breathes in a disturbing reality or emotion and breathes out a healing antidote, thus serving to filter the difficulties of the world through one's own compassionate body. The rhythm of in-breath and out-breath also suits the cycling of our seasons. After inhaling one season, we breathe out another. Unlike tonglen, in our seasonal breathing, we can inhale not only the difficulties of the past season, but its successes too. We exhale our good wishes and aspirations for a productive month. We work consciously with Sun/Moon cycles because we want positive transformations.

What did you inhale this past Aries season? On the world stage, of course, we saw Aries at its most martial-bombs that were a magnificent show of strength to some and a horrific display of aggression to others. As Taurus arrived, we saw its dual guise as well - the greedy grasping of Iraqi looters and the collective cry to stabilize what American bombs had broken -- to return water and civility, to breathe ruined buildings whole, after inhaling the rubble and confusion. I'm not suggesting the seasons "caused" what happened. Rather, nature moves logically and pervasively. We will find its resonance everywhere, including the details of our own lives.

"What did you begin last month that needs stabilizing now? What new initiatives did you launch? Did you start any wars you need to clean up? Or did you do something heroic that you can build on? " I remember asking these questions during one of my Twelve Moon workshops. Terri, sitting in the front row, frowned. Like many eager to learn about natural cycles, she took lots of notes and asked urgent questions. She wanted to get it right. But it seemed when I asked her to reflect on her own life, her enthusiasm evaporated. After a few minutes, she raised her hand.

"What if you didn't do anything in Aries? What should your project be for Taurus? Have you ruined things if you missed the initiating month?" I understood where she was coming from. I've had Aries seasons where I wasn't too daring or heroic. But there was always something that made that month different from the one that came before and the one that followed after. That's the seed. I quizzed Terri a little. Eventually it came out that she'd quit smoking in Aries. "Wow!" I replied. The room broke into applause. Terri blushed, but was still frowning. "Isn't that rather stupid? I mean where's the heroism in that?"

While quitting cigarettes, or eating less sugar, or taking a taxi cab for the first time may not seem like heroism, the truth is the seasons fit the context of our lives and nothing else. Few of us will actually march off to war, climb Mt. Everest, or rescue a cat from a burning building. Nor will we launch life-changing initiatives every year. Yet something in us will somehow leap forward. And that's what we need to honor: the hero's archetype in us. Often, like Terri, we just don't see it. That day, she needed convincing. A workshop participant raised her hand, "I've heard that quitting cigarettes can be as tough as quitting heroin. Sounds heroic to me!" Another offered, "I still remember the day when I quit. That was twenty years ago. Isn't something you remember that long an important initiative?"

Terri cheered at the acknowledgement. But she still wasn't sure what she was supposed to do in Taurus. "Am I just supposed to keep quitting cigarettes during Taurus? That sounds dumb." Stabilizing our heroic efforts is important and something Taurus can do. But rarely do we plan a season's work. We need to enter the month with awareness, see what wants to evolve, and be sure to move when we hear the call. "Sometimes we enter seasons with nothing more than the question you're asking now. It's like a Zen koan that succeeds not so much by answering it, as by having it in mind. One season always leads to the next. How that happens is each month's mystery." Terri looked dubious, but promised to give me a report.

A month later Terri called. She'd been reading in a spiritual book about the destructive power of negative mind states. She recognized herself in that, in particular, her habit of anger. In fact, after she'd quit smoking, her anger seemed even more pronounced. She watched with horror as she snapped at her children and said cruel words to her mate. She urgently wanted to change, but how? "Then it hit me," she said. "I had successfully quit smoking. If I could give up that habit, couldn't I do the same with my angry outbursts?" She went to work with determination and had a profound Taurus season. Several months later, she called me again. "I'm so much happier. Things that would have made me angry just slip by me now. I've wanted this for years… and I owe it all to that productive Taurus season. Amazing!"

May your Taurus season be just as profound. May you breathe out maple trees, green pastures, and the future you've been dreaming of.

© 2003 Dana Gerhardt
All rights reserved