The Waxing and Waning of the Moon

When we war with our own head, one of us is always the loser.

When it was time for the moon to leave heaven and live in the nighttime sky, she consulted with Elegguá. The moon hoped for a long, prosperous life, and she wanted to know what she had to do to maintain her blessings.

“One as fair as you need not worry about her fate anywhere,” Elegguá said.

“Thank you, Elegguá. You are too kind. But I want to be prosperous in the material world.”

Elegguá divined for the moon. “Your growth and prosperity in the world is assured,” he said. “For you will be born to light man’s way through darkness, and every day that you live you will grow greater. You will inspire lovers; you will console the weary; and, there are those who will worship you.” He stopped, and frowned, looking down at the cowries on his mat. “But your light will not last forever. It will wane unless you make ebó.”

“What is the ebó I must make?” she asked, almost fearful.

“I want a goat, a jutía, and a rooster. I want smoked fish, and all kinds of fresh fruits. I want honey and rum and cigars. Give me all these things, and I will make sure that your light will never wane, and you will live forever among the stars!”

Graciously, she smiled at Elegguá. “I will make ebó,” she said.

Although the moon was a beautiful bright spirit, inside she was cold and greedy. A part of her wanted to make ebó: a part of her told her making ebó was futile. The moon warred with her own head over this. Before leaving heaven she gave the rum, honey, and cigars to Elegguá, but she did not sacrifice the goat, rooster, or jutía. “That is enough for him,” she reasoned. “Elegguá wants too much.”

At first, in the night sky she was no more than a sliver, a slice of light no brighter than the faintest star; but night after night, her strength grew and with it her light. It took two weeks’ time, but soon she hung proudly in the night sky, casting a silvery light to dispel the darkness. The moon was quite beautiful, and she was happy.

Lovers loved. Poets dreamed. Some worshipped her. It was all Elegguá said it would be.

Even Elegguá enjoyed roaming the earth under the light of the full moon. One night he was licking his honey, drinking his rum, and smoking his cigars when his stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry,” he said. “Where is my food?”

Elegguá looked everywhere, but he could not find his goat or his rooster or his jutía. “The moon did not leave me anything to eat?” He was in disbelief. When his hunger deepened, he was angry.

Elegguá hid in the shadow of a tree and watched the moon for quite some time. As she began her nightly descent he thought, “She is a greedy spirit, wanting to be perfect in the material realm without making ebó. Two weeks is enough—it is time for her beauty to fade.” Sucking in a long, slow breath, Elegguá pursed his lips at the moon and blew with all his might. As the moon slid below the horizon, she lost just a bit of her glow.

For the next two weeks, every night the moon shrank in size until she was so small no one could see her. It was then that she finished her sacrifices of a goat, a rooster, a jutía, and smoked fish. Out of fear, she gave Elegguá everything he requested as ebó. But, it was too late to lock in all her blessings; and although she waxed again, she always waned.

That is why for two weeks every lunar month, the moon grows until she is full and beautiful, and then for two weeks every lunar month, she shrinks until there is nothing left. She refused to make all of her ebó when Elegguá asked; and as she was told in heaven, her beauty forever waxed and waned.