you & me

The Labyrinth: A Series of Art. {Part Seventeen: Blood Moon}

{Photo credit: Kristi Stout}

The moon, as an archetype, is associated with what is secret or internal (also Feminine).

Feminine as an energy is not directly connected to being male or female, but merely that which is internalized and associated with nurture. Internal is the operative word. On the other end of the spectrum, the Masculine has always been associated with external, outwardly expressed.

Like two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together making a whole, Masculine and Feminine perpetuate and also complement what is essentially the sole function of the other, working independently yet congruently. They both have an essential contribution to the entire whole, and neither one is more or less important than the other.

Moon energy therefore represents that which is not out in the light (the Feminine) yet is still a source of light (by reflection), a whispering of that which is subconscious.

From my observations and experiences, most of us only show a fraction of who we actually are to the external world, like the moon, and even further still, we show even less of that depending on who we are interacting with (like what phase the moon is in).

Simply put, my experience of myself in full is most likely quite different from your experience of me, and vice versa (dark side of the moon). Just like my lover’s experience of me greatly differs from that of my friend’s experience of me. Very, very few people in this world actually know me at this level, and even then there is always a deeper part still meant only for myself to know.

The Blood Moon in my art series, therefore, is personifying this. As most of us know, normally, the moon gets its shine from direct sunlight reflecting on its surface, but during a lunar eclipse, the moon moves through the darkest and most central area of the Earth’s umbra.

The sunlight reaches around the earth and into its shadow, grasping the moon which is sitting there enshrouded in the earth’s darkness, and this phenomena appears to us as if the moon is glowing red with bent light.

Therefore it is our darkest shadow place that is represented here by the Blood Moon. The part where the light is distorted as it’s trying to reach it. The part of us that is hidden from the world at large, yet a very big part of us nonetheless, one that is not always easy to carry.

What’s also indicated here in this artwork is the fact that typically, we are responsible for what’s casting the shadow upon our own higher natures, and our own source of darkness as well.

It represents the sacred energy of all that is visceral and bloody that we carry, whether consciously or unconsciously. Like junk DNA, it’s not always turned on, but it is still very much a part of us — a secret codex of pure potentiality (and perhaps, even pure threat) always with us.

Were it to be turned on or brought out into the light, it may serve to burn away what’s inauthentic about us, leaving only what’s pure and true. And this travels with us and within us, through our lifetime(s), whether we are conscious of it or not.

But having to step into the light and out of our own shadow is something that makes many of us feel quite vulnerable, as we’ve grown accustomed to our shadow. It’s easy to stay hidden and not shine, as shining requires immense energy. But without the appropriate light, we (also) become distorted.

The Blood Moon can represent things that are secret in the way that we all know per se, but never speak of — the elephant in the room. The things we all see but never say out loud or admit to — for whatever various reasons –which there is always some excellent excuse for.

Perhaps the fact that you are in a loveless marriage, bored to tears and sadness, yet still carry on as if nothing were wrong, perhaps posting all your perfect family selfies on Facebook or Instagram — that kind of thing. But you stay for the kids, right?

I know, it kind of hurts to be called out, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’re angry at me now for what I’m saying and completely disagree, or maybe you’re nodding your head quietly with a heavy feeling in your heart. Or perhaps you’re like: “F*ck yeah! I totally get it! So happy I’m not there anymore!” Thatis the Blood Moon energy.

Regardless of where you are in life, the Blood Moon energy is that thing you know that is true but cannot admit to for reasons that are hard or complicated (or subconscious). Why? Because you are afraid of change? Afraid of pain? Afraid of hurting someone? Or maybe you just don’t like commitment… to self? Perhaps it’s fear of your own power?

I’d venture to guess, it has a lot to do with being afraid of your own power, which backhandedly feels like fear of not being powerful enough, good enough, or worthy enough.

But please know, you are. I don’t care who or where you are, or what walk of life you hail from, we are citizens of the planet.

We are all here together, in this together, and life is messy and complicated and traumatic. But being able to go there in authenticity holds immense beauty for those of us who are brave enough, moving through the fear and beyond the boundaries of our self-imposed limitations.

{Photo credit: Kristi Stout}

Fear is not real. It’s is purely psychological. The only way to conquer it is to move through the darkest umbra of your own eclipse.

The Blood Moon is very much a part of all of us. And no, it’s not easy stuff to look at (our dirty laundry), or read about, or hear about, or even know about. But we must know it. And accept it. And love ourselves in spite of it, because of it, for it. It is part of becoming whole and full in this life.

Blood Moon is holding space for us to lay out what’s hard and look at it, and yes it stings. And yes it hurts. But why do we always try to numb pain?

I have always found that when we feel the pain, we learn to move through it, we learn our power. We learn fullness, and through this we know full-fill-ment. When we numb everything, it’s like only giving ourselves one side of a whole expression — let’s call it a half moon. This is all fine and good, but it makes you inauthentic when you only let yourself experience one side of a whole.

Denying the other part exists is as good as living a half-dead life. 

Going back to the concepts of masculine and feminine energies at play, as a collective society, those of us who are paying attention are beginning to see what happens when we write the power of the Feminine out of the equation. We are now suffering the consequences on a dangerous collective level. And now it’s time to sit with this pain, look at it, move through it, and learn never to let this happen again. Ever.

Like the moon risen in darkness, reflecting light upon us as she waxes and wanes and forever pulls with force at the earth’s ocean tides, she goes completely dark and into the absence of light. However, always she cycles back into the light, even if the light is bent and casting red hues.

I have found in life that some of the most beautiful light shines upon me when I’ve dared to tread in the darkness through muck and hell to sit with it and face it. Yet once on the other side of that bloody hell, standing in the light again, I can look back in on the shadow and see the beauty and sacredness of what I went through.

Like a glorious right of passage, I glimpse these pearls and gems of what I experienced there. I hope we will do the same as a collective people.

An eclipse is such a beautiful phenomena. It happens infrequently, yet when it does, it’s as eerie, and wonder-filled, and wild as ever. It teaches us about wholeness.

There is a poem I wrote on one such total eclipse of the moon in 2014, and what it pulled out of me was a powerful wish or prayer, or mantra, that brought forth a strong sequence of events to follow. Now, five years later, I can tell you, the wish came true, and it was finally time for what lay waiting patiently in my proverbial darkness to be brought into the light.

None of it was easy whatsoever, but coming out of the shadow of my own eclipse changed me in a powerful way, and I can never revert back to the psyche of what I once was.

I’m sorry if what I just said above was cryptic, but the full nature of what it was is left to my own personal Blood Moon, meant for me alone. But I can tell you, once you have been through and seen things, you cannot undo the experience. First I had to sit with it in the darkness, in a bend of eerie red light. For a more poetic look at this concept, you can read about it here: I Want You Beneath a Red Moon.

The bottom line is, in the nature of psychology and spiritual evolution, you are the only one casting your own shadow upon yourself. Nobody and nothing else is responsible for that. You are also simultaneously the source of your own light — a gorgeous creature of light and darkness.

This light may be like the silver glow of the gentle moon, or it may be a power like that of a bolt of lightning, striking powerful and fierce when it sees fit, sudden, intense, awe-inspiring. Either way, it’s all coming from you, the source that is connected to Source.

{Photo credit: Kristi Stout}

This is an ongoing series by Kristi Stout. Tune in weekly for the next chapter in ‘The Labyrinth’.
If her art resonates with you, and you’d like prints, contact her through her website or Facebook.


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Kristi Stout

Kristi Stout

Kristi L. Stout is an artist, mother, and lover. She considers herself a Renaissance woman, in service of Love in its many forms. It is her belief that inside each of us is our own sacred, Wild nature -- a hidden instinct that is not forgotten as much as it is dormant, like leafless trees in winter. It is the part of us that is connected to all things. A knowing without knowing. The part deep inside that understands darkness is necessary for the moon to simmer silver, and recognizes that even if you’re lost in the middle of nowhere you can always find a sacred somewhere -- like an internal compass pointing true north to your heart center. Her passion project, work in progress, is She Is Wild. You can find more of Kristi’s work here or connect with her on Facebook.
Kristi Stout