The Moon
XVIII
The Moon... illuminating our swamplands where mystery reigns supreme.
See how she hangs there, full and luminous, casting her silver light across the dark waters. Neither fully revealing nor completely concealing what lies beneath the surface. The Moon is never about certainty—she is the mistress of the in-between, the half-seen, the intuited rather than known.
These sentinels of our swamps stand like guardians at a threshold. Their roots know both water and earth, their branches both air and mist. They belong everywhere and nowhere—perfect companions for the Moon's liminal energy.
And look who answers her call—on one side, the Rougarou, our Louisiana werewolf, man transformed by moonlight into beast. Not entirely human, not entirely wolf, but something that walks between worlds. The perfect embodiment of what lurks beneath our civilized surfaces.
Facing him, the alligator—ancient, primordial, a creature that has survived since the time of dinosaurs. His eyes reflect the moonlight like rubies, his toothy grin neither malevolent nor benign, simply... watchful. Both creatures howl their devotion to the moon, acknowledging her power over the wild and hidden aspects of existence.
And here, the humble crawfish, emerging from the mud, moving backward to go forward, shedding his shell to grow. In the tarot's traditional imagery, we might see a crayfish or lobster—but here, our Louisiana mudbug takes his rightful place, reminding us that evolution often requires returning to our depths.
When The Moon appears in this form, she speaks of the journey through uncertainty, through terrain where landmarks shift and shadows deceive. The swamp at night is not a place for maps and compasses—it's a realm where you must trust your instincts, your deeper knowing.
There's something in your life right now that cannot be approached directly, cannot be solved with pure logic or analysis. The Moon asks you to honor mystery, to recognize that some paths reveal themselves only in fragments, only in glimpses caught from the corner of your eye.
New Orleans understands the wisdom of the moon. Our most potent traditions happen after dark—our rituals, our music that blurs the line between composition and improvisation, our stories that are neither fully truth nor fully fiction. We know that reality is fluid, that boundaries are permeable, that sometimes the longest way around is the shortest way through.
What shadows are you trying too hard to illuminate? What uncertainty are you fighting rather than navigating? The Moon doesn't promise clarity—she offers instead the wisdom of embracing the unknown, of learning to move with confidence even when you cannot see the full path ahead.
The Rougarou and the alligator—these creatures of transformation and ancient knowing—they don't fight the moonlight or the darkness. They thrive within it, using senses beyond sight. There's something of both energies available to you now, if you'll quiet your rational mind long enough to listen.
The Moon reveals what has always been there but was hidden by daylight's practical concerns. She is the revealer of secrets—including those we keep from ourselves. What truth shimmers just beneath the surface of your consciousness, waiting for you to dive deep enough to claim it?
Trust the journey through the swamp. Let the moonlight guide you. Sometimes we must get a little lost before we can be truly found.