Leah Moss

Category: Uncategorized

  • Mother.

    The moment between life and death.

    When blood slows.

    When the lungs deflate.

    When the heart quiets.

    When the mind soothes.

    There is no time in this moment, as she greets us and holds us while we settle. We are not dead yet. We are not alive either. This moment, is held for as long we need.

    She is quiet, gentle. Her presence warms as ours cools and moves back into her while we gestate until another life springs forth. Our memories, our blood, flows to our loved ones. Those whose tears are the overflow of our energies as they wave from our body to their memories only. Our mannerisms are seen in glimpses of their looks, their skin, their behavior, as they dance from knowing both us and themselves.

    She smiles. I ask how long I can be here, how long I can stay in this peace. She replies that time is irrelevant now. The circles of our cells spin in every direction, as they glide all around.

    I watch, from outside, as those gathered hold their breaths, waiting for mine to start again; their restart is forced out with a cry. They touch my hands, and I yearn for the grasp.

    She holds mine instead, gently, for a grasp hurries the process of dissipation.

    Everything is silent, and begins to feel warmer as the light fades. I can no longer see, but I can feel again. I tuck myself into the warmth. The water and air feel cool, and I reach out to feel more of it. The electricity within me is creating a heat too intense to hold. As I reach out, my hand no longer feels anything but a slight breeze. I am curious. Slowly, I move my head toward my hand, and push through the last part of what was warm but is now cool to the touch. I burst out, and feel warmth again, immediately.

    I feel everything.

  • Portals

    There is a giant black hole in the center of our galaxy. Itʼs the thing that keeps us in a spiral, swinging from eagerly wanting to jump in like itʼs a waterslide, while also feeling the weight of our own existence. More than a billion lightyears ago, a collision of two such black holes sent out invisible waves headed right toward our terrestrial planet. They were so powerful, they rippled spacetime.

    There is an opening ahead of me. Itʼs dark, I canʼt fully see what it is. I keep walking toward it, curious, knowing that there is something there. Along the way, there are so many other thresholds I cross, unaware of how many until I look back and see infinity.

    I turn around, and the threshold is gone. I look back – did I walk through it already? Itʼs not there, either, and the rest of them are gone, too.

    My head spins around, up and down, frantically searching for this portal. It was too important; I needed to get through that. Where did it go? I have to find it again.

    I begin to run, then slow to a walk, and start to change directions. But I canʼt tell which direction is which. Disoriented, I close my eyes, and feel for the ripples. Which direction are they coming from?

    The answer is every direction. They bounce into each other throughout me, so that direction is completely obliterated and all I can feel is the gentle wave created within. I feel nauseous. I search for my feet, the back of my knees, my inner thigh. I sense tingles in the middle of the palm of my hand, and the crook of my elbow. The middle of my ribcage reverberates, and reaches the top of my spine. My cheekbones soften, and my ears open.

    There are small, previously imperceptible portals positioned everywhere in my body. I learn that I can control them, somewhat. I can open and close them, and most of them have been closed and blocked by debris. I slowly open them as the frequencies reach them, clearing out debris, following the paths of colorful shapes and sparkling flecks that are sucked through and fall to other places. They produce both an intense heat and a chilling freeze as they open.

    I stay, unmoving, and find that I am hurtling through everything, everywhere, all at once. The wind is fast, but also gentle, the temperatures change, my body turns from grains of sand to slimy blob, liquidating and solidifying, feeling like both cacti and moss, air and fire.

    I see a light through my closed eyelids. Itʼs getting brighter, so I know that I am getting closer to it. I am not afraid, and soon the bright white light is all around me.

    It feels like everything and nothing. It feels like someone is hugging every single atom of my body. It feels like a cool breeze on a hot day. It feels like a smile exchanged with a stranger. It feels like a snuggle with my children. It feels like crying with a neighbor. It feels like finishing a project I put so much work into and now get to enjoy it. Drinking the first sip of the best coffee. Catching a glance of acknowledgement and appreciation. Digging in rich soil. Swinging at a park. Climbing a mountain. A hand raked in my hair with a slow kiss. Watching fire flicker and water undulate. Feeling the moon, and the edges of stars.

    The enchantment waves and wanes.

    After a while, I open my eyes. And realize that the portal was me all along.

  • Iʼm back.

    Itʼs March 2025. The last Moonbow Iʼve posted or sent or did anything with was four years ago.

    Thatʼs not to say that I havenʼt written them. That Moonbow hasnʼt been a constant on my mind. That I have subconsciously designed the interior of my house to get closer to it. That every cell in my body is refracting and reflecting this light. That every moment in my day, everything I see, is done through this lens.

    Why havenʼt I done anything with it?

    Iʼm scared. And over the last year, Iʼve also been having memory issues. I canʼt connect things anymore, because the way I used to think and the way I used to experience the world has completely shifted.

    I donʼt remember much of 2024. I wrote my entire self-evaluation for my annual review at work doing this, submitted it, and then realized it when I went back to find the receipts.

    It was then that I realized it was my entire life, not just work. I had fallen into the abyss.

    A while ago, in the depths of my depression and start of therapy, I had six visions, or dreams, or whatever you want to call them. The first three were in black and white, the second three were very specifically designated colors in them.

    But I only want to talk about one today. The one that Moonbow is actually based on.

    I was standing on top of a platform, looking down at what seemed to be a tourist attraction. This attraction was a giant deep void. The attraction was for people to try to walk on it. I watched as some people walked up to the edge, stepped on, and disappeared, fallen into it. Others took a tentative step and found they could stand on it. They would joyfully dance around, closer to the center, farther from the edge, and then disappear. Others sat down in the middle, talking to each other, their legs dangling in this vacuum of light.

    I walked to the edge, and just kept walking. And I stayed on top. Everything was quiet around me as I wandered. As I reached the center, I looked down, and saw these almost imperceptible translucent rainbow fibers. They were sparkling, ever so slightly. No one else could see them, but they were coming out from all of us, and creating a weave. Thatʼs what was keeping us from falling in.

    About 18 months ago, I fell in. A lot happened leading up to it, including the death of my cat, my dad being diagnosed with cancer, and a period of time in which all things connected to water in my house broke and needed replacing. Once those things had passed, the actual drop happened.

    I spent that time in the depths, desperately clutching for anything that would bring me above, especially at old time-tested tools. Everything slipped through my fingers, and I found myself going deeper, slowly.

    But just as slowly, the absence of perspective allowed mine to shift. I began to seek out other threads. And in doing so, I found so much more.

    I looked up, and saw everything connected. How the tiniest of cells hidden in the darkest caves reflect the same structures in distant galaxies.

    I know now that it is another plane that is actually all around us. That we traverse different planes of existence constantly, and that nothing is above another. It is all in how we sense it. And changing those senses to see something previously hidden to us is the life experience. To shine new lights around, and reflect a new spectrum, in ways that others can find it, too.

    I didnʼt publish any Moonbow, because none of them felt like light. This one does.

    Iʼm back – and I never left.

  • Moonbow: Don’t rush nature

    It was glorious, 70 in March in Minnesota, and then it was a reminder. 

    DON’T RUSH NATURE. It will be spring when it damn well wants to be.

    In this transition, enjoy the auditory and visual shifts of season – in particular with our air friends, the birds, a reminder of how movement connects us all.

    WATCH:
    1. Connected, Latif Nasser – also, just experience everything he does. Beautiful. 
    2. The Most Unknown

    QUOTE: from Crow and Weasel
    “Remember on this one thing,” said Badger. “The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memories. This is how people care for themselves.”

    WORD: Aoibhneas (Gaelic) pronounced eevnass
    The joys we feel from external things, such as music, companionship, scenery and good weather. To fill our senses with the joys of the world around us. 

    Happy Spring Equinox in a few days.

  • A poem of gratitude

    Frankenstein, preparing to dine.

    We are in the midst of a beautiful darkness, on the cusp of a renaissance. It’s exciting, and scary, and delightful. A few things to enjoy in the dark. 

    PONDERANCE and WATCH: four-hundred years from now, what will the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortoises be called? Williams? Gorman? 

    QUOTE – 2 this week!
    I have always liked my people a bit damaged. A bit rough around the edges. A bit difficult to stereotype. A bit stranger than the normal crowd. I like people whose eyes tell stories and whose smiles have fought through wars. If you’re perfect, changes are, we aren’t going to get on. If you’re one of the cool kids, changes are, you won’t like me. You see, what I want is authentic. What I want to see is your purity, I want to see the way you wear your scars, I want to see how brave you are with your vulnerability, how emotionally naked do you let the world see you. Your damage may not be beautiful, but it has made you exquisite. It makes you original, different, and one of my kind of people, because people like you are the most incredible things about this world. – Nikita Gill

    …When you have the balls to go into the darkness and all of a sudden you realize that darkness was a complete illusion. All the darkness and negativity and spooky shit and guilt and fear and crap you thought was inside you, and all the bad things you thought you’ve done, and all the things you feel terrible about secretly…you realize that’s nothing. It’s an illusion. The universe loves you, you are completely embraced by the entire universe. You are an incremental part of the functioning of the cosmos. You are an incredible, wonderful, perfect fucking thing. And when you get a glimpse of that, it’s the greatest feeling ever. Because you’re healed. Because that’s what true healing is, man. True healing is realizing you were never sick in the first place. True healing is realizing you just had a little bit of dust on the windshield man..you brush it off... – Duncan Trussell

    REMINDER: You are doing better than you think you are. There is no need to be hard on yourself. Release the unnecessary pressure. 

    SONG(s): The Darkness – I Believe In A Thing Called Love (Official Music Video) – YouTube
    and…in honor of who I believe should be a TNMT namesake: Saul Williams: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert – YouTube

    POEM: (Image from above…story from the book “Frankenstein eats a sandwich, by Adam Rex)

    When Frankenstein prepared to dine
    on ham and cheese on wheat
    He found, instead, he had no bread(or mustard, cheese, or meat). 
    What could he do? He thought it through
    until his brain was sore.
    And thought he ought to see what he could borrow from next door. 
    His neighbors gawked as Frankie walked the paths up to their porches.
    Each time he tried, the folks inside would chase him off with torches.
    “A MONSTER! EEK!” the people shrieked. “Oh, make him go away!”
    The angry hordes unsheathed their swords, pulled pitchforks out of hay. They threw tomatoes, pigs, potatoes, loaves of moldy bread.
    And then a thought struck Frankenstein as pickles struck his head. It’s true at first he thought the worst. His neighbors were so rude!
    But then he found that on the ground they’d made a mound of food! He piled it high and waved good-bye and shouted, “Thanks a bunch!” Then stacked it on a plate and ate a big, disgusting lunch!

  • Great Minds Think Differently

    The absurdities of the first month of 2021 seem to be impacting everyone. The activities we are witnessing/experiencing relate to our global pendulum, which reverberates at all scales. We are a microcosm of the macrocosm.

    This is how change occurs: We will be in these large back and forth movements for a while, and we have a choice in how we perceive and live it. One: fear, which results in giving away power. Or two: swing. 

    When you swing, your stomach is in your head (feed it), and your heart is in your feet (the leading part of each trajectory). It is exhilarating and scary at first. Then, you become attuned to your own movement, both in structure and in surrender. 

    Also, I dare you to swing, even just a little, and not smile. 

    Things to feed your head: 
    SONG: I’ve got Life.
    WATCH: “The beauty of linguistic diversity is that it reveals to us just how ingenious and how flexible the human mind is,” Boroditsky says. “Human minds have invented not one cognitive universe, but 7,000.”
    QUOTE: We do not think ourselves into new ways of living, we live ourselves into new ways of thinking. — Richard Rohr
    ACTIVITY: Find a park, and a swing set, and swing. YOU CAN DO IT.

  • Expansion

    MLKy Way

    If we pay attention to media, our world is in a war. The dissonance is easy prey. Yet, when we slow down, we discover that curiosity is stronger than fear. 

    When we become curious, we are led to the lights of our natural world, and we find a very different story. Connections, in matrices, abound at every scale, at every moment, in every being, between every being. 

    “The revelation of suddenly seeing what I was blind to only moments before is a sublime experience for me. I can revisit those moments and still feel the surge of expansion. The boundaries between my world and the world of another being get pushed back with sudden clarity an experience both humbling and joyful…Mosses and other small beings issue an invitation to dwell for a time right at the limits of ordinary perception. All it requires of us is attentiveness. Look in a certain way and a whole new world can be revealed.” – Robin Wall Kimmerer

  • Scale

    2c25918308691421783c1ff22bcc80aa.jpg
    If you are one of those kids who freaked out when you learned how big the universe is, this might not be the Moonbow for you. 
    However, recognizing the concept of scale and connection to our broader universe is amazing and valuable. 

    Small to Immense  Travel from Planck Length (10 to the power of -35) to the observable universe (10 to the power of 27). 

    Go Deep: The surface of the water to 10908 meters deep, and check out the creatures who live where. 

    The amount of things that exist and the number of things that are required for everything to exist at one moment in time and space are Astronomical, Awesome, and Astonishing. 

  • Everyday Magic

    Rogerses.jpg
    After an encounter early in their friendship, Mr. Rogers and his wife had a lifelong inside joke.
    “…when they were traveling anywhere and were tired and finally got to sit down and rest, one would turn to the other with a mischievous grin and say, “Oh, this makes my sweet ass smile.”

    Activities this week: Throughout: Picture Mr. Rogers saying “Oh, this makes my sweet ass smile” every time you sit down. 

    Watch this. 

    Inside Activity: Look around you in your immediate environment. Pick something that stands out to you, and do one of two things: 

  • The Empress.

    Happy 2021!

    Over 2020, I took a sledgehammer to my “built” foundation, and in the autumn began a process of planting seeds in the rich soil I uncovered. On Winter Solstice, I burned the words “fear-based and scarcity mentality” in sage and wood.

    On the last full moon of 2020, I told my parents that I have a new last name, the last phase in an 18-month process of uncovering and living it. This quiet defiant choosing of my own identity rather than the roles given to me was a fulcrum.

    I vacillate between trying to find my footing and realizing I never lost it – I just don’t know what I’m stepping on/into. It is all unknown. And it is scary AF, but also enlivening.

    The amount of personal work I’ve done to get to this point, especially over 2020 when things started to blossom and move in delightful ways, is no small feat. Thank you to Mother Earth and those closest to you for providing a gentle opening that beckoned me in. I found home in myself this year, and ancestors I never acknowledged before. This upcoming year will be continuation of practice. I plan to:

    Follow the flow: the water, the cycles, the love.

    Do controlled burnings and work through my wounds.

    Look up and float.

    Get dirty. (Ooooooo…)

    2021, let’s play.