Sunday, October 12, 2008

Moon Moment

Hurrying to and fro, packing away leftovers, collecting toys, stray socks, and dirty glasses, stepping lightly over the dogs and the baby to drop everything in it's rightful place. Conversation, squeals and laughter fill the small space of my sister-in-law's house. Is everything ready to go? I glance around. There's nothing left for me to do, at least until we are ready to walk out the door. No one is paying any attention to me. The children are all attended to. My husband is in the middle of a story, sure to be occupied for a few more minutes at least.

I slip quietly through the sliding glass door, stepping out into the dark windy night.

The air is fresh, and just beginning to smell of dry grass and autumn leaves. Even though it's October, the night is warm and pleasant. The gentle breeze suddenly gusts, gleefully whipping the flower beds and making all the windchimes sound. I steal down the back steps and find my way along the rock path to the firepit's clearing. There, I plant my feet firmly and tip my head back to the sky. The moon's glow is just visible behind the racing clouds, perfectly centered in my vision with the waving pines all around. Stiff with tension, I stretch to loosen my muscles. As the wind whips higher, I throw my arms out and breathe deep, deeper. Suddenly the moon explodes through a break in the clouds, shimmering silver and blue. It's nearly full, and glorious. I drink in the sight. Feelings of peace, awe and gratitude mingle with sadness and longing. I want to stay right there, stay and listen to the wind in the trees. Stay to watch the clouds. Stay to talk to the moon. To feel the earth beneath my feet and remember what it's like to notice the subtle beauty. "I miss you", I tell the moon. I do miss her. I miss the quiet connection. I miss my spiritual self. I watch as the clouds hurry to veil her brilliance again. The wind whispers to me that I'm probably wanted inside. Still, I linger. The beauty of the night is a balm for me, a sip from the chalice to keep me going a while longer. Finally I turn back toward the house. As I near the door I can see the boys inside, bouncing and talking and hanging off their uncle. The shouts and laughter are audible long before I open the door. With a last longing look, I slip back into light and noise, love and chaos.

Until next time, moon. Until next time.

2 comments:

Robin Easton said...

Dear Kit, this is so beautifully poignant. It brought tears to my eyes, both of joy and sadness. You have such a lovely soul. I related to your longing to connect to nature.

I lived years in the wild and now the last 12 in a small city and although I hike when I can it is not the same as being with the wild every single moment, every single day. I don't have children but lately my work keeps me from moon-bathing ;) as much as I need and would like. But, like you, I steal moments to reconnect, remember and rejuvinate.

I am glad you are moved to do the same, hunger to do the same. It reflects your vitality and innate wisdom. Just beautiful! Hugs, Robin

Makinart said...

Ah Kit,
Love your writing. For years I've done short weather meditations. Lok at weather, anywhere, anytimes for 30 seconds or more, and remember. Breathe. You fill in your remember code. I easily and quickly relax and cneter. It builds my connections. Also spirit always is present at any moment. Tune in. However these are fast tools for in between the richness you describe and deep connection in your blog. Thanks. Mary www.about-albuquerquenm.com