Dear Reader,
I love the full moon. I love it best when it rises over water, creating a flickering, dancing pathway that makes something deep inside me want to follow wherever it will take me.
I have hiked in the mesas of northern New Mexico by the light of a bright full moon.
I have gone cross-country skiing on the snow covered surface of a tiny lake in Maine by the light of a full moon. Shadows rushed across the gleaming snowy lake toward me as clouds covered and uncovered the moon, creating the illusion that I was skiing faster than I ever had in my life.
I have crawled out of my tent in the northern New Hampshire woods, unable to sleep because of the brightness and energy of the full moon, to simply stand and look. I felt as if I was pulled from the tent by the intensity of the light.
I have watched the full moon from airplane windows, seen it disappear in total eclipse while I was standing at a New York City street intersection, peered at it through a telescope borrowed from my high school biology teacher, and had it stop me in my tracks when it rose, swollen and red to the point of not resembling the moon at all, above the island of Bressay here in Shetland.
The full moon has always felt comforting to me, like a big cheerful lantern lighting our way in this world. When I was barely old enough to sleep in a real bed, I always felt better when I could see the moon peeking through the trees outside my bedroom window. It is said that the full moon has an effect on human beings, which I believe; I often feel the full moon as much as I take it in visually.
Tomorrow’s full moon is a blue moon, meaning it is an extra moon in the season. I don’t really care about that.
What I do care about is that tomorrow is also the funeral for Neil Armstrong, the first human being to set foot on the moon. I was barely nine years old when he took that first step, with millions of us watching on TV. I was buzzing with excitement and feeling very adult because I was being included and staying up late.
Even at age nine, I recognized the boldness and vision of that act. That memory became part of who I am today.
So for me the moon represents vision, and mystery and delightful luminous beams of light watching over us, lighting our way when the sun is nowhere to be found. I guess that makes me quite a romantic, doesn’t it?
I’m happy with that.
I honor Neil Armstrong and as always, Dear Reader –
I honor your loving heart,
John
Featured Image – Full Moon by Petr Kratochvil
John, You always have good insight and something special to share. Thank you enjoyed that!
Susan, thanks, and it’s good to hear from you!
Hey John The following came to me, sitting on my couch (you know the view) as I was thinking about a group meeting I was going to attend the following night. I thought of it as I read this post (I signed up but don’t get emails telling me when you’ve posted for some reason). Thought you might appreciate. I do love full moons.
Sometimes the moon calls me.
Sometimes quietly, just a faint image in the daytime sky.
Sometimes loudly, full moon rising in the dark night.
Sometimes teasingly, playing peek-a-boo with clouds.
Tonight she calls so we can share our own lights, bright and full.
Together.
That’s beautiful; thanks June!