And the Moon, she comes — The Warrior Moon — rising over the harvest field, luminous as a warrior’s shield. Upon that shield she carries the reflected blaze of the Libra Sun.
For a moment, there may be quiet: the harvest gathered, the light and darkness brought to balance, a pause for completion and contemplation. And somewhere within the stillness, the ancient scales appear.
Divine Justice: The Heart Is Weighed
What, over the course of time — be it a day, a season, a lifetime — has one spent cultivating within oneself? Now there may be repentance. There may be a return, an alignment perhaps too brief, but one meant for remembering before the next turn around.
The true question was not, “Were You Religious?”
It isn’t, “Which God Did You Say Was Lord?” or whether you embraced one.
The Question Is Closer To: “What Did Your Heart Become? Was Your Heart In Accord With Truth?”
The ancient Egyptian principle of Ma’at carried an extraordinary proposition: maintaining creation was not solely the gods’ affair. Human beings had a part in keeping the world from falling back into chaos.
Catastrophe destroys our illusion that we control the scales. There are circumstances in which a human being has almost no remaining agency over what happens externally. We may find ourselves carried into some untenable extremity, asking:
“Why Is This Happening To Me?”
“Is The Universe Treating Me Justly?”
Even there, another question remains. Is there an order deeper than circumstance? And if there is, perhaps our participation in it occurs through what we become.
The question may belong to a single life, or to a people, a nation, a faith. What have we added to the balance? What have we cultivated within the heart?
When so much lies beyond our power, something may still remain within it: to make our way into the heart and live from there.
Whatever or whomever you worship, there remains the question of how you live. What weight do you add to the heart? What makes the heart lighter?
Rather than merely worshipping God, live to become more godlike. Not godlike in the sense of omnipotence — that old seduction of ego and power — but closer to its opposite,
Godlike As Mercy,
Godlike As Compassion,
Godlike As The Relinquishment Of Hatred,
Godlike As The Capacity To Remain Human When Circumstances Become Inhuman.
Perhaps another boundary is ready for dissolution: the one that allows another’s suffering to remain merely theirs. We have seen how readily the suffering of others can become an argument for superiority: My God is greater than yours. God is on our side — just look at what you have suffered.
But the suffering of another need not ask us what it proves. It may ask instead what it calls forth from the heart. It takes a warrior to cultivate such godlike agency — a heart capable of remaining open in a world that continually gives us reasons to close it. We can interrupt the ancient program of blame, vengeance and separation. We can turn toward rather than away.
Perhaps This, Too, Is The Work Of The Warrior.
The Shield Is Raised.
The Warrior’s Shield Catches The Light.
See Also Bliss Byte | Equinox and Warrior Moon | Chanting Meditation | From The Libra Container