As a child, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. Grandma used to say, when the moon was full, “I see the moon, and the moon sees me”. Mom and I say it to each other in remembrance.
Mom sent me a photo of the moon overlooking her property in the Midwest last night. It’s red rim and pink glow rose above the Illinois River valley, bathing her house and my yurt in its soft light. The miles apart and the years without grandma in the flesh disappeared into our family reunion in spirit.
How do you honor your ancestors? What rituals help you align with them in spirit? Ki to Happiness sees the moon and the moon sees her.