Every month for decades now I have named the moon. I am definitely a low-profile witch, but this is one thing I’ve stuck with. It is a sort of prayer, I guess, the naming, but it is also a way to focus attention, to bring the imaginal realm into my reality. It helps me adjust my state of mind, even my state of being.  The moon becomes a tangible reminder of my immediate goals.

This month I named the moon the Giving Thanks moon.  The Thanksgiving Moon was the obvious name, but I switched it up to remind me of the verb “give” and all its power.  I have been on the receiving end of this power for over a month now. This has been uncomfortable, not what I am used to.

The oxygen mask metaphor has almost become a cliché, but it still holds power. Young mothers are often reminded of this when their babies are sick. “Take care of yourself, so that you can take care of others.” It is easier said than done.

This month I’ve kept a close eye on the Camp Fire survivors through the fantastic social media page Paradise Fire Adopt a Family. I don’t have the cash flow to fulfill an Amazon wish list these days, but I do have extra room here, and I’ve invited a few families to come to stay with me at the farm.  I haven’t had any takers. The farm is over an hour away from Paradise, not ideal for relocation. It’s off the grid and in the snow, which makes life hard if you’re not in the habit of dealing with those things. Mostly, it’s in the middle of the fire trap of the Tahoe National Forest, horrifying when dealing with PTSD from the deadliest fire in our state’s history.  Hopefully, someone will still take me up on it.  I want so badly to help.

It’s a paradox of our society that there is so much greed juxtaposed with so much generosity.  For some, it is easier to take than give. In the case of the Camp Fire or any other disaster, the takers become looters and swindlers. Often, givers are thwarted because what they have to give is not wanted. Used clothes, towels, sheets etc., that may be needed are not welcome as donations. This is in part because all too often people look at the opportunity to give as an opportunity to get rid of junk.  They take the opportunity to give and turn it into taking.

Giving and taking are complex things. What makes someone a giver and not a taker?

In my family we have an expression: Always give more than you take.

When I was a little girl, my father and I would go before every Thanksgiving and Christmas and buy an extra holiday meal. I found it thrilling to pick out the packages of stuffing and potatoes and cans of green beans. My father would pick the best turkey they had. I would pick the cranberry sauce. We’d deliver the meal together to the rectory. I would imagine the family happily eating their dinner, not knowing where it came from. I also loved spending that time with my dad.  I had no idea the experience was hardwiring me to think about giving, to think about those who have less than I do.

Many years later a colleague of mine and I got in the habit of visiting a tree-hugging, tree-sitting activist. When she wasn’t up in the tree, she was in her little home in the woods of Humboldt County. One time she did our charts for us. I am not that into astrology (bad witch!) but I did notice that all the little dots on my chart were on the right side. Same with my friend. Same with the tree-hugging tree-sitter. “Is there any correlation,” I asked, “between activism and where the little dots land?”  None of us were sure, but I’ve always wondered. Is being a giver in the stars, or inside us?

We all give differently. I am more of a networker, and I am proud that my giving has helped start community-based businesses that not only feed our community but donate generously to help others.  Once my networking helped save a colleague from a scary situation; that person has remained in our community and helped thousands. My late husband Jack gave much differently. He would rescue distressed roadside travelers in both good weather and bad, secure in his safety due to his ability to defend himself. He was only afraid a couple times, but he continued to choose to take that risk to help one person, one time. It fed him.  (He forbade me to do the same, only allowing me to pick up two hitchhikers, Pete the Musician and the Nice Lady Who Lives at the Dump. I was fine with that. I am fed from giving in different ways and do not feel safe letting strangers in my car.) I slip $20 here and there into Go Fund Mes and Kick Starters. He had a yearly ritual of going in person to give to his three favorite charities: Hospitality House, Sammie’s Friends, and SYRCL.

Last month I did something I swore I’d never do; I let my friend start a GoFundMe for medical debt I accrued helping Jack fight his cancer. “I’m not that person,” I said at first, “I’m the person who donates to GoFundMes.”  I was at the tipping point, though, and I was scared. This was compounded, I’m sure, by my fear of being alone in the world, being widowed.  “Let people choose whether they want to give to you or not,” my friend said. “No one is forcing them.”

So for the first time in my life, I blatantly took.  I put on the oxygen mask. It felt strange, but good in a way, and this is the first month in about six that I haven’t gotten nauseous when paying the bills. Caregiving is dangerous, expensive business, and I’m glad I am still wearing the mask, which now takes the form of writing, resting, cooking and eating good food, learning not to be hard on myself for taking. I’m keeping a list of people I want to donate to once I’m back on my feet. Some are fighting cancer, others are survivors of the Camp Fire. For me, wearing the mask means I eventually get to take it off and help others out of the plane and down the inflatable rescue ramp to safety and happiness. Maybe it’s just the way I’m wired.

My experience with taking reminded me that crowdfunding is not charity. Donations are not tax deductible. Crowdfunding is paying it forward, letting my few dollars mix with your few dollars to make a difference. Crowdfunding is also political since some would say that health care and insurance should be affordable and comprehensive and fair. The givers of the world come to the rescue of the vulnerable, as over a hundred people did for me. I am now less vulnerable. I am now stronger. I am now closer to being able to give more of myself to others.  And now I am inspired to honor Jack’s annual ritual, to visit those three charities and give in his name.  I will add one more stop in honor of my father, and also give to the Interfaith Food Ministry. My contributions will be small, but mixed with yours they will create powerful change.

Tomorrow is the new moon, and I’m thinking hard about what to name it. My WeMoon witch calendar says the moon is in Sagittarius, but I’m not sure why that is significant. I don’t know yet what I’ll name this moon. I usually don’t decide until I see it. I will carry the blessings and wisdom of the Giving Thanks moon with me into the new month, the new moon, the new lessons waiting for me.

There is still time to contribute to CC’s GoFundMe.  Please visit Paradise Fire Adopt a Family to help the courageous survivors of the Camp Fire.