“I see the moon, and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon, and God bless me.”
How well I remember that rhyme from my childhood. The moon and I have had a longstanding relationship, and nothing has changed; in fact, the relationship has actually become more playful. The sun, however, has not been so kind. Since I had the extensive burn to my face seven years ago, doctors warned me to stay out of the sun. I work in a small “closet” with no windows, so until I leave work, the only time I see the sun is when I walk to the hospital cafeteria. Then at the end of the day, when I’m trying to get to an early bedtime at 6:30 or 7:00 p.m., the sun bathes my bedroom through two windows, teasing me inconsiderately about my unusual schedule. I get quite annoyed.
The moon, though, is the heavenly body that greets me every morning when I leave for work at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. Sometimes it is hidden by clouds, sometimes it is a little sliver of a moon, but other times, like yesterday, it is big and bright, if somewhat lopsided, in clear skies. I just had to stop and take a picture of it. How tiny it looks in the picture, and how big it looked in the sky!
My commute to work along the coast of Maine is understandably a winding one. It’s only about 20 minutes of driving, but the road twists and turns so that one minute, the moon is on my right, seemingly high up in the sky, then the moon disappears altogether until it pops up on my left, maybe looking lower near the horizon. I never know where it will turn up next, but I get the sensation it is playing a game with me. At times it feels as if everyone in the world is still asleep, but the moon sees me and I see the moon, and maybe we are the only two creatures awake.
That bond has been intensified when I think about the lessons the moon teaches me. For one thing, it teaches me to keep things in perspective. I know in my brain that when the moon looks bigger or smaller or assumes a different shape that it really hasn’t changed size; it is just my way of looking at it. I also know that because it has no natural “glow,” and its shine is the reflection of the sun, that means the sun is shining somewhere, even while we are encased in darkness. (I have posted before that I have a strange way of looking at tragedy and happiness - that if I am attending a funeral, I still note the probability of someone getting married somewhere at the same time, and on days when I am overjoyed and feeling deliriously happy, I am tempered by the fact that somewhere someone has lost a loved one to an accident or illness.) Next, the moon teaches me about constancy and faithfulness. I know that even if I can’t see the moon, and the moon can’t see me, it’s still there, making its daily rounds. Even while it seems to be an inactive satellite, we know of the power it has on our tides, so it is an important player for the fishermen here along the coast, indeed, for our entire planet.
Finally, the hide-and-seek dance the moon plays with me five mornings every week reminds me that things are not always what they seem to be, and as in its changing size and “glow,” the eye can deceive. I can’t definitely say whether the moon is male or female - Francis of Assisi defined “Brother Son, Sister Moon,” yet the Man in the Moon theory just adds to that endless speculation.
The history and science of the moon is fascinating, but for now I am content to enjoy its presence in the dark of night/early morning as I begin another day.
“I see the moon, and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon, and God bless me.”