When I first began practicing, I followed Wicca. Not for any particular reason, more because I was introduced to Scott Cunningham and, at the time, it was the only book I was aware of for beginners. There are so many out on the market now, I’d hate to be a newbie to the Pagan path as you wouldn’t know where to begin! A year or so later I discovered Shanddaramon’s Initiation for the Solitary Witch and I knew I was home.

Even before I realised I was Pagan, back when my school was still trying to keep me Catholic, I would look up at the moon and be in awe of her. Since I was 10 or 11 I’ve always said, “Goodmorning Moon!” when I see her in the sky of an evening. It has always been Father Sun/Mother Moon for me. Father Sun watches over us during the day, Mother Moon cradles us as we slumber. Which I believe falls nicely into Wicca – the Goddess as a whole is the Moon, the God as a whole is the Sun.

(NB: I denounced Catholicism when I was 13, and I remember the day when it all clicked…March 1998, and I was listening to Silverchair.)

Yesterday morning as I left the drive way heading for the train station, I saw her. She was huge, and full, and radiating with a beautiful yellow glow.

And masculine. Oh the masculine energy I was feeling was so powerful, I swear my voice deepened as I called to my husband (who was getting into his car to leave for work) to look at her.

This isn’t something I’ve ever picked up on before. I’ve always felt the Moon as feminine, the planetary aspect of the Triple Goddess. So to feel it as male, it was odd.

It also got me thinking, and reflecting on how I used to be.

When I began, I couldn’t connect to masculine energy. It was alien to me. I honoured the God, I honoured Herne, but it always felt separate. So naturally, I concentrated on drawing down the Moon, and on the Goddess aspect of the craft. When I practiced OceanCraft, the land, the sea and sky were all asexual entities, and Mother Moon shone brightly down upon me.

Now, I feel the opposite. Almost. Goddess energy has become distant. I see people in forums say, “We are all Goddesses!” but I don’t feel it. I don’t connect with it. Yes, I’m gorgeous and damn sexy, but Goddess? It’s not there. I have a theory this is because of disconnecting with Brigid. In Victoria, she was there. I felt her energy everywhere in the town I grew up – not hard, seeing I went to a primary and secondary school run by the Sisters of St. Brigid. Here in Sydney, I don’t feel her. I’ve tried connecting with her, but I get the feeling of She’s taught me everything I need to learn from her for the moment. So I’m without, for lack of better explanation, unsure of who to learn from next. My intuition is telling me Cerridwen and the Morrigan, but I’m not sure if I’m ready or if the energy is right just yet.

Herne, the Green Man, is everywhere. I see the Green Man in every tree, whether it’s in the park or two streets up from Central Station amongst the brothels and town houses. The Sun and his love and warmth recharges me. I draw down the sun into me every morning on the balcony overlooking the site. Granted, working on a construction site, naturally it’s an over-load of masculine energy (to the point where we’ve feminised the grey scale female toilets on level two!)

Bringing back to my point, the masculine moon. My first thought this morning was Stag Moon. I know it’s quite common with some traditions (moreso in the northern hemisphere) to have names for each moon. They mean nothing to me, I’m on a different land to where they all originated. But Stag Moon, that felt right yesterday morning. Herne’s Moon. The Holly King fought for the crown at Yule, and took said crown at this months full moon. Herne, King of Windsor Forest, the Hunter, his Moon.

The energy tonight feels off. I can’t help but stare in mirrors and doorways, waiting for something or someone to appear. It’s all wrong.

So I’ve purposefully not celebrated this full moon in ritual. It doesn’t feel right to.