Devotion as Medicine - Full Moon Practice
- May 1
- 7 min read
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Welcome to the Wild Wisdom Monthly Practice
Each full moon you will receive this practice to help keep you on track with the lunar cycle and your new moon practice. These practices are crafted to keep you spiritually nourished, and to help you continue to expand your spiritual growth.
This month, our practice is Everything in the world is medicine and for this Full Moon, we turn towards Devotion as Medicine.
Our prayer is:
I heal myself
With the light of the sun
And the rays of the moon
I heal myself with the sound of the river
And the water
With the swaying of the sea
And the fluttering of birds
I heal myself
With beauty and love
I am the medicine.
Inspired by María Sabina
Devotion as Medicine
Healing requires you to be present to yourself — to stay even when you want to run or hide.
When you witness yourself without turning away, you invite in grace.
No practice can restore what you are unwilling to face.
You can’t heal while you are abandoning yourself.
Your inner value is your gold.
The healing pathway is one of self-devotion — staying with what is uncomfortable, and in doing so, recovering your inner strength and vital essence.
To be devoted to yourself is to remember that you are the medicine.
Self-devotion is listening to your heart and being present to the journey.
There is an art in this.
A dedication.
A courage that can take us beyond what we think we are capable of.
Even when the possible outcome touches our deepest fears, when we follow the voice of our heart, we find our way.
And this is where our practice begins.
When my first husband became unwell I left no stone unturned to discover what was happening.
We were not taken seriously. It was assumed it was our lifestyle in the world of music.
One day the truth hit like an avalanche. Being ‘unwell’ escalated to something very scary.
Something unknown.
He was in terrible pain, exhausted, and had lost a significant amount of weight.
After a fall, a large lump appeared beneath his right rib cage.
I knew we had to act.
The emotional pain was relentless.
But I remained present and my dreams guided me into an inner place — so profound, so connected to something greater — it held me.
This was grace.
An unseen medicine that becomes available when we stay with what is happening
and trust enough to follow the signs and synchronicities — the guidance that comes our way.
We followed one sign after another, navigating the hospital system,
finding our way to therapies that brought moments of relief and quality of life.
But no one ever told us to prepare for the end. Only our dreams did.
And all along, I knew we were travelling this journey alone.
Then came the moment when the balance shifted.
He is fading fast. His pain unmanageable.
I manage to convince him to come into the hospital for assessment.
We are taken to an empty room. He is settled onto one of the beds.
“It’s okay, my darling,” I whisper.
I look up as the doctor walks in —
a brief flicker of dismay crossing his face before he composes himself.
“I’ll get the resident to see you. You’re too unwell to continue chemo. You need morphine.”
He disappears.
The young resident comes in.
She gently strokes his forehead.
Kisses him softly on his head, making soft, soothing sounds.
I reel back in recognition of her response.
Carefully, she opens his mouth and makes a fuss over a thrush infection — a fungal growth through his mouth and down his throat.
“Poor darling,” she says.
Stabbing shock registers inside me.
I didn’t know.
Holly looks from him to me, her face wrinkled in concern.
“Gary, I think you should come in for a few days.”
Tears sting my eyes. I fight them back. I can’t cry now.
I look at him — fear shining in his eyes.
He holds my gaze.
“If not for yourself, then for Michelle. Look at the state she’s in. She’s worn out. She needs to rest.”
What’s she saying? A panicked voice whispers somewhere inside me.
“No… it’s okay. He’s coming home where he belongs.”
I manage to say it without my voice breaking.
She says she will organise the morphine and hurries away.
I run after her into the corridor.
“You won’t forget the medicine for the thrush, will you?”
She comes over to me, puts her arms around me and says quietly, ‘he won't be with us for much longer.’
She rushes off, tears running down her face, and leaves me standing there.
He has the morphine, and I take him home.
Devotion was the medicine that held it all together and kept me present.
Through devotion came grace
And I became a wayfinder on one of the stormiest oceans I have ever navigated.
I followed the signs one step at a time.
And when death came to our door, I wasn’t ready, but I was as prepared as I could be.
The night we came back from that last hospital visit, I dreamt we were in a foreboding, foreign place.
A creaking ruin of a hotel stood alone
on a narrow, bony ridge.
I went inside and asked where the hospital was.
“Over there,” came the reply —
“on the far hill across the valley.”
I looked.
It was to the west, far in the distance.
The valley between us was green, fertile.
Its centre, a graveyard.
Standing on the veranda,
I watched black clouds race across the face of the moon
Even though there was no wind in that airless place.
I woke knowing we were entering the eye of the storm and there was no turning back.
Healing begins through presence, self-awareness, and self-devotion — the qualities that invite in grace.
Grace flows when you move with what is unfolding.
In this way, everything becomes medicine — the right timing, the right person, the right words, the right action.
Sometimes, in moments of shock or overwhelm, part of our vital essence — our spirit — can withdraw or split away to protect us. In traditional cultures, this is recognised as the spirit hiding away or wandering until it is called back home.
On my journey with Wild Wisdom, I have met many people who have experienced such loss. It may show as an inability to be fully present, a disconnection from life, depression, or memory loss — a feeling of being outside of life.
This is something we can heal through self-awareness and self-devotion.
Everyone has their own medicine — a unique way of navigating the world.
Through awareness and practice, it becomes a way of healing and strengthening — a way of being.
THE PRACTICE
Being and The Inner Smile
Ursula Le Guin said, to hear, one must be silent.
Our practice for this full moon is to embrace silence and stillness — to simply ‘Be.’
Be present to the moment, to what arises and to your inner value.
The Taoist concepts of stillness, simplicity, and inner guidance are at the heart of the Inner Smile meditation.
Go outside when you first see the moon rising in the sky, or sit by a window that lets the moonlight in.
If it’s cloudy or raining, or otherwise impractical, you can light a candle and place it on the windowsill or your altar.
Look up at the sky.
Feel your awareness expand.
Let your thoughts be like the clouds.
They come and they go.
Don’t follow them.
Be still. Be silent.
Just be.
By allowing your thoughts to be like the clouds, they begin to empty out.
Observe what comes up.
There might be a heavy story that you are still carrying.
You might feel it in your body, or have a memory.
Reflect on how you survived this time of your life.
Can you connect to the grace that came to you —
that enabled you to survive that experience, or move through it?
This is your opportunity to release it, or anything that feels heavy.
Anything that arises — this is the moment to acknowledge it, recognise it, and make peace with it.
Through simply being — an act of self devotion.
Turning Within
Now bring your attention to your inner eye.
Close your outer eyes to allow your inner eye — your strong eye — to see more clearly.
From here, guide your energy down from behind the eyes, through the face and neck, and into your heart centre. Your spiritual heart.
Take some deep rhythmical breaths. If this is uncomfortable, just breathe in your regular way.
Sitting, Being
Emptying out.
As things arise, simply observe them.
With each exhalation, release them with love and gratitude.
A Mantle of Protection
Notice your emotions — they are part of your inner guidance system.
None of them are negative — they all serve a purpose.
Anger, fear, sadness.
Joy, love, compassion.
When you pay attention to what they are showing you, awareness, vitality, and your ability to find your way deepen. When you smile at what arises and acknowledge it, you create a powerful mantle of protection.
Smile gently to your body, to each organ and system.
Let your smile rest on each for a moment.
Now smile at your inner peace.
Your self-awareness.
Your self-love, self-belief, and self-trust.
Through the magic of your smile, you will get in touch with your inner radiance.
Now smile into your story.
And with that smile, embrace, then release, all that is heavy.
All that holds you back.
Calling Yourself Back
With your smile welcome back any part of you that might have been hiding or wandering away from your life.
In tending to your inner world, you are tending your relationship with life itself — this is medicine, an act of devotion that restores your felt sense of being part of the whole of life.
Grace
When we surrender to these things, we invite in grace.
Grace is the mantle that holds our inner wisdom, self belief, self love, and trust — flowing through our life force when we take the time to simply be.
Much love
