Apocalypse as Awakening A 1st Quarter Moon Devotional
As the 1st Quarter Moon rises, we walk the Via Creativa embracing the joy of making, of playing, and birthing the unseen into form.
Invocation
O Source of all Life,
Root and Flame, Breath and River.
We come as seekers and kin,
Gathered beneath the wide-boughed Tree that shelters the world.
We call upon the Presence that flows in all things,
The Living Waters rising from the deep,
The Spirit that weaves every leaf, every root, every heart into one great body.
Unveil our eyes, O Holy Mystery.
Let us see through the veils of habit and fear.
Grant us the grace to sit in stillness,
To feel the pulse of belonging.
Here in the sacred grove of our souls,
Where your Kin-dom shimmers, radiant and near.
May we rest beneath your branches.
May your living waters flow through us,
Washing away all that keeps us from the truth of our kinship.
Awaken our seeing.
Open us to the beauty and the blessing that is always here.
This we ask, in trust,
As children of earth and sky,
As companions in the great circle of life.
The Sacred Moment
Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.
This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.
Theme: Living the Apocalypse: Unveiling the Kin-dom Within and Among Us
From a mystical/spiritual point of view, either there are no post-apocalyptic stories or everything's a post-apocalyptic story. As the practice of writing apocalyptic literature faded, the word apocalypse got tangled up with disaster and cataclysm in our popular imagination. We started calling every calamity an apocalypse, and the stories we told shifted from unveiling deeper truths to warning us about the end of all things. But a true apocalypse is a learning experience. It’s about revelation, not prediction. An apocalypse is a moment where the curtain is pulled back and we are invited to see what is really happening in our world, in our spirit, and in our communities, giving us a sense of solace and catharsis.
Let’s begin by untangling what apocalypse actually is, and why practicing apocalyptic spirituality matters. I’ve spent my life wrestling with these questions, seeking a faith that is rooted in hope, creativity, and the honest unveiling of the world as it is and as it could be.
What Is an Apocalypse, Really?
Apocalypse is not prophecy, and it’s certainly not a doomsday forecast. The word itself means unveiling, revealing what was hidden. Throughout history, apocalyptic stories have helped communities process trauma, make sense of disaster, and find a path forward. They turn crisis into metaphor, weaving the chaos into stories that, at least for their intended audience, almost always end in hope, a golden age, a new heaven and new earth, or a vision of wholeness after the storm.
This mode of spirituality is ancient. It was seeded in the biblical prophets crystalizing its tropes and style in the second half of the Book of Daniel. Examples include the three books of Enoch, Apocalypses in the name of Adam, Abraham, Moses, Gabriel's Revelation, and the Sefer Elijah. It fills the Dead Sea Scrolls, and is found in the stories of every tradition that has faced upheaval. These stories arise when cultures go into crisis. They don’t predict the future; they reveal the emotional and spiritual reality of the present moment, often in the thick of suffering, injustice, or persecution.
This is clear in the Book of Revelation. Its wild images are less about some future cataclysm than they are about the very real persecution under Nero, the trauma of seeing your community targeted, the loss of the Temple in Jerusalem, and the desperate hope for a world set right. It’s a letter to the traumatized, telling them they are seen, that there is meaning in their suffering, and that the power structures that oppress them are not ultimate.
Why Practice Apocalyptic Spirituality?
We live in a world overwhelmed by crisis, information, and unprocessed trauma. Every day, the news and social media flood us with suffering, injustice, and anxiety. The problem isn’t just that bad things happen, but that we’re given no space, no tools, to process what we feel. We’re taught that strong people don’t cry, that emotions are weaknesses, that we must soldier on until we break.
Catharsis is not a word we use enough, but we need it. To be healthy, emotionally and spiritually, we need ways to process and release what builds up inside. This is where apocalyptic spirituality becomes essential. It is not a substitute for action or protest. It will not solve the problems of the world for you. But it will help you get clear enough, purged enough, grounded enough to see what needs to be done and to do it with your whole heart.
In the ancient world, and in many Indigenous communities, apocalypse is a practice to process collective grief and trauma. We see this in the Ghost Dance tradition after colonization, in the visions that come to people in times of crisis, even in Marian apparitions during war and upheaval. These are moments when the veil drops and deeper realities become visible.
You might recognize the shape of this in modern stories too. Lord of the Rings, with its roots in Tolkien’s experience of the First World War, or even something like Avengers: Infinity War. These are stories that resonate because they allow us to process grief, fear, and hope on a mythic scale. Sometimes we get the catharsis we need; sometimes the story lets us down. Either way, we keep coming back to them because we are hungry for an apocalypse that unveils meaning, hope, and the possibility of healing.
How Do We Practice Apocalypse?
Let’s make this practical. To practice apocalyptic spirituality is to seek out and cultivate those moments of unveiling in your own life. These are moments that allow you to see, feel, and process what’s truly happening inside you and around you.
It doesn’t have to be dragons and angels. Maybe it’s dancing to Beyoncé in your living room, letting the rhythm shake loose what’s stuck inside you. Maybe it’s watching a film, playing an instrument, writing a poem, or going for a long walk in the woods. It could be the taste of a bowl of soup that suddenly cracks you open and reminds you of home. It could be laughter, tears, keening, drumming, or even the deep silence of prayer.
What matters is resonance. What connects with you? What story, sound, or sensation helps you feel, deeply feel, the things you’ve been carrying? Your apocalypse doesn’t need to match anyone else’s. For some, it’s heavy metal; for others, it’s reggae, comedy, or even just sitting quietly with a pet. The goal is not to wallow in pain, but to move through it, to purge the excess so that joy and clarity can return.
From a Kabbalistic perspective, this is about bringing harmony to the energies within us. We need to balancing loving-kindness and strength, beauty and power. Sometimes the trauma is in our capacity to trust or to hope, and the apocalypse we need; whether it comes through a song, a story, or a shared meal, can help us find our way back to balance.
Living the Apocalypse Daily
Here’s the secret: You carry the apocalypse with you. The goal is not to chase after one transcendent moment and then go back to business as usual, but to learn to recognize and honor those moments as they arise. To realize that the basic goodness, harmony, and joy at the heart of all things is available to you always, if you let the veil drop, even for a second.
When you taste something that reminds you of home, when music brings you to tears, when laughter shakes you free from fear, that is an apocalypse. That is the kin-dom unveiled, right here and right now.
And when we practice this, when we allow ourselves catharsis and clarity, we become better equipped to live with compassion, to act for justice, to resist the powers that would keep us numb, afraid, or divided. The world does not need more doomsday prophets. The world needs people who can see through the chaos to the underlying possibility of healing, hope, and new beginnings.
Living an apocalyptic spirituality is not about waiting for the end of the world or preparing for some cosmic reckoning. That is what the entrenched powers and principalities want. Living apocalyptic spirituality is about unveiling the kin-dom within and among us, here and now. It is about having the courage to feel, to grieve, to rejoice, and to hope. It is about letting stories, art, and daily experience help us process what’s real, so that we can act with integrity and love.
So, as you go about your day, pay attention to what resonates. Let yourself be cracked open by beauty, by sorrow, by silliness and joy. This is the work of living the apocalypse, not as a disaster, but as a revelation. And in that unveiling, may you find both catharsis and the courage to create a better world.
Practice: Sitting Beneath the Tree of Life, Drinking from the Living Waters
Preparation
Find a quiet place where you feel safe and can sit comfortably for 15–30 minutes. If possible, sit outdoors under a tree, or by a living body of water. If not, visualize or surround yourself with natural symbols like a branch, flowers, a leaf, a bowl of water. Maybe light a candle or place a small vessel of water before you, representing the river of life.
Intention
Take a breath. Speak (aloud or inwardly):
“I come to see with the eyes of my heart.
May the Kin-dom of God, radiant and living, be unveiled within me and all around me.
May I rest beneath the Tree of Life, roots nourished by the river of living water that flows without end.”
Practice
Rooting and Centering
Close your eyes. Feel your body settle.
Imagine roots growing from your body down into the earth, interwoven with the roots of the Tree of Life.
With every breath, feel yourself drawn deeper into groundedness, safety, and belonging.
The Tree of Life Visualization
See or sense the Tree of Life rising above and within you. Its trunk is luminous, branches stretching upward and outward, leaves shimmering with the light of Spirit.
See its roots drinking deeply from a river of living waters, the waters of grace, wisdom, and original blessing.
Opening the Inner Gaze
Let your awareness become wide and soft, as if you are gazing with the eyes of your heart, not your head.
Imagine the Tree’s light radiating through and around you.
Allow images, feelings, even subtle lights or colors to arise and pass. Do not chase or grasp them. Instead, rest in the impression of the Tree: its living presence, its sheltering branches, its nourishment flowing from root to leaf, from heart to heart.
Kin-dom Unveiling
Whisper or contemplate:
“The Kin-dom is within me and all around me.
Every being, every breath, every current of life flows through the same river.”
Now, sense without words, but with the fullness of your being, that all who sit under this Tree are kin.
Feel the presence of beloved ones, ancestors, guides, saints, spirits, the living creatures of earth, all gathered in sacred community, roots entangled, drinking from the same living water.
Seeing as Revelation
As you sit, if your mind tries to name, judge, or analyze, gently return to the experience of being a presence among presences, a radiant leaf on the Tree nourished by the river.
If visions or insights arise, let them come and go. The true unveiling is not in images, but in the quiet recognition of belonging and sacredness, here and now.
Integration and Return
After 10–20 minutes, sense the radiance of the Tree settling gently into your body, the waters flowing through your heart.
Bring your awareness back to the room or earth beneath you.
Offer a word of gratitude, a blessing for all beings sharing the Tree and river with you.
“May all who thirst be nourished.
May the Kin-dom be unveiled in every heart.
May I carry this seeing into all my days.”
Journaling/Artistic Response (Optional)
When you feel ready, you may wish to draw, write, or otherwise express what was revealed. Don’t try to interpret, but honor the experience.
Closing Blessing
May we arise,
Shielded by the branches of the Tree of Life,
Rooted deep in the earth,
Nourished by the living waters that flow beneath all things.
Let us go forth clothed in the light of revelation,
The Kin-dom unveiled in every heart we meet.
May beauty guard our senses,
Belonging anchor our spirits,
And hope be the path beneath our feet.
By the Source that weaves all things together,
By the river that renews and restores,
By the Tree that shelters and binds us as kin,
We walk forth in blessing,
Protected, awakened, and whole.