Painting in my home by Rob Gonsalves
Many people are affected by the moon: “that monthly changes in its circled orb”. Maybe that’s why I love it. Just like a woman, the moon reserves the right to change its mind. It is said that Cancerians like me are most affected by its opalescent wiles.
One of my earliest memories as a tot is looking at the moon in all its pale glory. Like most children I never had problems sleeping. I would go to bed at night and wake up to the morning light. Except when it was a full moon. All my life I have awoken to its gentle luminous nudge. I always figured that this was because the moon was lonely. I surmised that it would go around gently waking like-minded souls so they could bask in its golden glow. Can you imagine what Moon feels like when it puts on its shining grinning spectacle only to have people fall asleep? Trust me, I’ve performed in shows like that!
|Painting in our home: The Bedroom by Deloss McGraw|
I guess that’s why I can never leave Moon wanting. Not that I have a choice, mind. Because the moon calls on me. I would like to think it’s just me because I am covetous of the Moon, but I know there are others.
But that’s okay because when I am up on a full moon night, gazing skyward towards its opaque teariness, I always feel supported in my quiet gaze.
Maybe that is why I am such a space enthusiast. When the “Eagle” landed on the moon, I could not breath. When Neil Armstrong took his first step I was weightless with fulfillment.
|My sketch-a-day sketchbook: the moon over The Harmony Hotel in Costa Rica|
If I ever get the chance to go to the moon, I will take it. There is no way on Moon that it could disappoint!
The moon makes me feel whole. I feel like I belong to Moon and Moon
belongs to me. I have always felt this way as far back as I can remember. The moon does not seem empty, bleak, or lifeless to me. The opposite rather.
The moon would be my ultimate quiet place. My email would be out of range and I could get a lot of reading done despite the fact that I am a very slow reader.
But would I arrive on Moon and instantly become besotted with Earth? I don’t know. In the meantime, I moon.
I also know that this is why I love cheese.
|My sketch-a-day sketchbook: last night's moon|
Barbara: Phil and I were driving back from Costco at dusk last night and the full moon had just started to rise in the east, climbing up through the Toronto skyline, a huge, yellow disc just peering down at us—almost a portal it looked so huge. It looked impossibly close, as if it had fallen off its orbit or something. We marveled at it, eyes barely on the road ahead. And then Phil observed, “Why does our moon not have a name? All the other moons have names, but ours is just ‘moon’.”
And it’s always been thus. We wax poetic of moons in literature and examine them in detail in science, but our moon is always The Moon. Interesting!
PS I am also a moon girl, a Cancer and a feeler-of-moon-waves and dreamer-of-moon-dust. Thanks for the lovely ode, Deb.
|Last night's moon tangled in the trees of our backyard|