Full Moon Musings

Ancient rituals honored the lunar cycle. Buddhists perform a full moon ceremony in which participants acknowledge all their "ancient twisted karma" in chorus. Some Hindu yogis refrain from practicing hatha yoga on the full moon, bowing to the relationship between the emotions and the sun and moon. My friend Donna is a big proponent of moon salutations, having researched the variety of moon salutations that help cool the fire by modulating body and mind.

I live on the second floor of a 6 unit apartment building, surrounded north and south by similar structures. Dog and people sounds float upwards into an accoustical corridor, the soundspace between. Mornings of trumpets and passionate latino ballads wafting from an upper apartment give way to evenings of Laker enthusiasts gathering to cheer, shout, and philosophize from a basement apartment. The only sounds from the northern building have been dogs barking in the yard and the baby talking to her dad. That is, until full moon this past Friday.

In the morning, from the apartment right below my living room window, a woman loathed her apparent lover--"You are disgusting! You ought to resolve your problems with your father! Get your hands off me. Don't touch me. Get out of here. I can't stand you." I hadn't even noticed two women living together there. I couldn't hear the response. The fight didn't last long.

Later in the morning, as I walked to the rear of our building, I saw new neighbor Laren sitting on the stairs just outside his door. He looked like he had some cuts to his forehead and was chilling, so I just acknowledged him and let him be. When I returned from bringing in the bins he was gone, so I didn't think much more about it until later, when I heard Sarah talking about how she wasn't going to stand for being hit and would do something about it.

In the early afternoon the sounds of a woman being made love to were audible from the building next door.

A new, expensive looking mountain bike was left resting against the tree at the foot of the stairs. The chain and lock around the seat post remained unused. I figured it belonged to the guy visiting Whitney and Giovanni downstairs, and since they were sitting in the living room, in plain view of the bike, it didn't need to be locked up. But upon hearing Whitney's moans that evening, I figured either they were having a menage a trois or their visitor was gone and the bike belonged to someone else.

When I saw the full moon that evening, the events of the day coalesced in my mind. Ancient twisted karma indeed.

This morning I asked Whitney and Giovanni if they knew whose bike it was, observing that it soon would be stolen if it wasn't taken care of. She told me she'd seen Laren riding it. I was already on my way to the back of the building so I called into Sarah and Laren's open door. But Whitney was trying to get my attention so I turned around to hear what she had to say. "Laren was arrested and taken away yesterday for beating Sarah, so I don't think you should be calling out his name. They'll be moving out soon."

What kind of palace am I living in? I rolled Laren's bike to the back where I lock my bikes. I arranged them so his now looks like it's locked up back there as well. Maybe he'll come back for it. Maybe if Sarah is really leaving, she'll take it with her. Why does she have to move just because he was arrested? Where will she go anyway? And who will help her move all her plants and boxes of stuff that she and Laren spent three days moving in here two weeks ago? I rode my bike to yoga class to clear my mind.