I was in the midst of a mundane task ambling about inside an unlit room when I caught a glimpse of the moon. It stunned me. I found myself transfixed for who knows how long. Angling for a better view, I stood on the deck, engulfed by its light and the soothing sound of the ocean waves. All that I knew, believed and agonized over seemed to fall away.
I could not help but feel small, in a good way, and appropriately so. This sense of smallness somehow left me feeling comforted, connected and counted. It was as though for a brief moment, I possessed clarity in how it all made sense.
I have not felt that way in a very long time and I am grateful that:
a) I have the openness and emotional agility to allow the moon’s potent power to pull me in
b) despite a few droplets of cynicism that have crept in and managed to evaporate into a thin layer that sometimes fogs up my faith in things big and small, I can still receive some form of illumination from an unplanned source
c) I have the wherewithal to capture, share and reflect upon it. How easy is it to say who cares?
A flash of deeply felt clarity. That’s what the moon gave me the other night as I stood at the crossroads of reason and mystery. Whether or not it was valid is not for me to determine, debate or defend.
Mine is only one perspective, a small speck among billions needing, seeking, sometimes obstructing, hopefully eventually finding light. It’s small. Nevertheless, under the ageless, season-less lunar light, it counts.
Has the moon ever moved you?
Have other celestial bodies?
image by me