Blue Moon

In three days there will be a Blue Moon, but tonight the moon also sits strong in thy sky as it waxes, its face blemished and large like a wide bleached bowl with leftover oatmeal bits dried fast on the ceramic face. I’m captivated by the moon tonight, partly because of the beauty of it, and partly because I’ve been thinking recently about how time passes. In three days it will be a Blue Moon, but it will be the last day of July too, and more of my 26^th summer here on earth will be put to bed.

Time is such a slippery thing.  So slippery, that when I think about it too much, I stop believing that time even exists.  We have memories of the past and hopes for the future, but those things are so intangible. It is amazing how little people live in the present considering how strange the concepts of past and future are.

My grandfather turned eighty-six this month.  When I visited him for his birthday, bringing dinner fixings for an evening together and gratitude for his presence in my life, I asked him to share some wisdom he has gained in his eighty-six years.  He said, essentially, Do what you can, work hard and play hard, while you are young and able.

When I hear advice like this, I always cringe thinking about how much TV I watch in my spare time instead of climbing mountains, creating art, or meditating. If my grandpa were a moon cycle, he would be a waning sickle of light, sharp and stubborn, slicing at the night sky with the mighty remembrance of a full life lived.  I might be a moon waxing, but I may be at my Full Moon stage, or even past that, and what have I done with myself?  How bright does my moon face shine in any given moment?

I’ve tried to make the best of my time this month: I hiked Mount Saint Helens; I picked wild blackberries; I went to almost 10 yoga events, many of which were outside in several vineyards, a brewery, and at the Oregon State Capitol; I walked through the mist of waterfalls at Silver Falls State Park; I rode on the back of my husband’s motorcycle; I switched to natural deodorant; I swam in Wallowa Lake; and, I ate ice cream when I wanted too.

The moon sees my effort, or maybe it doesn’t, but regardless, I am so thankful that at this very moment in my life I feel full, or almost full, or full enough.  It isn’t a Blue Moon kind of feeling—it’s something I hope to continue to cultivate under any kind of sky, day or night, clear or cloudy, bright or moonless.