Monday, March 01, 2010

She used to drag her mattress beside her low window and lie awake for a long while, vibrating with excitement, as a machine vibrates from speed. Life rushed in upon her through that window - or so it seemed. In reality, of course, life rushes from within,
not from without.


~Willa Cather (1873 - 1947),
The Song of the Lark

Tonight I stood outside my studio, after teaching my class and watched the moon rise. I am addicted to the moon. I always have been. I mean, of course I deeply, intensely love the sun. I need it...the light, the warmth, the unfailing trust that it will always be there, even when I can't see it sometimes because of clouds in my sky. It provides everything I love and desire.

Everything of course, except for what the moon provides.
The sun is my mate, the moon is my lover.

Maybe in part, this feeling comes from always having been a night owl. Even as a young child I would stay up late into the night...seeking something. I am sure I drove my parents nuts (just like my night owl children do to me). Still, I can't help but feel that the moon is more like me—a kindred spirit. The sun is steady and unchanging, reliable and consistent. Where as, every single night, the moon is slightly different, marginally more evolved in one direction or another, a fellow traveler.

And every single night before I sleep, I tell my secrets to the moon...

3 comments:

Matt said...

I agree. I don't think that there's 'magic' about the moon; but to bathe in it's silvery feathers is to me, the ultimate in feeling peaceful. Or maybe it's more like feeling warmly dressed during the day, and then washed and refreshed during the night.

SEILER said...

Interesting indeed. I know some people that wander the streets in Chicago who also love the moon; weird things tend to happen here in the city when the moon is out?

mrityunjay said...

awesome..great caris..