Moon phase

 Many years ago I came across a questionnaire about “ecoliteracy” which tested the participant on how well they knew their own region. One of the questions was “Do you know what phase the moon is in right now?”  

A year and a half ago, the question gained practical significance when our household decided to forego electric lights (including those emanating from computer and tv screens) during the season of Lent.  Not only were we all generally sitting out on the front stoop as the moon rose each night, soaking in the last of daylight, we were also aware of its amazing luminosity as it reflected the sun shining on another part of our planet back to us here in the dark.

Today, I add the phase of the moon to our information board each week alongside the temperature and chances of rain for folks living outside or otherwise interested. The moon, like its connection to its namesake the “month,” marks our days, as it passes through its phases.  

Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book Leaving Church: a Memoir of Faith, uses the phases of the moon as a metaphor for being human.  She related the outpouring of presence required of a leader of a church (a position she had recently left), to the scorching sun and looked toward the moon for a healthier metaphor.

In my role, I could act out of my best nature for hours at a time. I could produce kindness when all I feel is fatigue. I could present patience when circumstances warrant irritation. I could shine like the sun until long after dark when I need to, but my soul did not operate on a solar calendar.

My soul operated on a lunar calendar, coming up at a different time every night and never looking the same two nights in a row. Where my role called for a steady circle of bright light, my soul waxed and waned. There were days when I was as full as a harvest moon and others when not so much as a sliver appeared in the sky. My soul’s health depended on the regular cycle of these phases. I needed the dark nights that gave the stars their full brilliance as much as I needed the nights when the moon shone so brightly that I could make shadow puppets with my hands. The problem with the collar was that it did not allow for such variations. It advertised the steady circle of light, not the cycles, so that it sometimes scorched my neck. 

We need the dark nights and the bright days, like we need the rain/sunshine, cold/heat, wind/stillness. All of us creatures need them. But we are the ones capable of not even noticing.  Caring for a little piece soil (even in a pot), being still enough to notice the pollen floating through the air, the insects sucking on the dew, the new growth after a killing frost, the phase of the moon tonight (do you know?) are ways to reconnect us to who we ourselves are in this place. 

[Photo "Lunar Eclipse over the University of Florida" by John Moran, extraordinary local photographer and author. See more of his work here.] 

Comments

[Adam Brooks]

Great picture!