“Treading the soil of the moon, palpating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one’s stomach the separation from terra . . . these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known.” —Vladimir Nabokov
The fickle moon waxes and wanes night after endless night, utterly oblivious to the human yearning for constancy. The moon arrives at a different hour each evening. If the phase is full, the moon shows up at the exact moment of sunset. The new moon, all but invisible, rises with the sun. As the moon moves through its cycle, its appearance changes boldly and subtly. As it brightens we see rugged heights on its surface, and as it dims they diminish to tiny blemishes.
Many people report mood changes under a full moon. It makes some people too excited to sleep. Others feel tension or aggressiveness during the full moon. About seven times in nineteen years there will be an additional full moon, making thirteen full moons in the year, or two in a month, because our calendars are timed to the sun’s rhythm, which differs a little bit from the moon’s cycles.
As the moon commands the tides to rise and fall, she communicates something to me about the pulse of life. The pull of the moon lifts me up and away from my embedded focus in everyday concerns. In the moonlight’s powerful glow, I see what lies behind me, imagine what lies ahead of me, and feel what lies within me.
Master’s words, like “clouds are cleared and the sun is seen,” so that I and other users see hope, to see the future