Wait for the Shine
I am completely enchanted and, it’s safe to say, undone by the moon.
If I or any of my friends are behaving a tad crazily, sensitive or teary, or extra energetic and delighted, it’s the moon, new or full, who gets the blame.
We point our fingers in contempt or otherwise clasp our hands or tilt our faces upwards in gratitude and feel blessed by its bright beams. We trust the moon to be true. We light a fire and burn the sage.
For years I’ve done this. Fallen into the sway of the moonlight, and aligning my mood with the moon’s phases. Drawn to its rippling reflection on water. Captivated by the change of light as it arcs across the sky every evening.
And until tonight, I did not much acknowledge the dark side of the moon. Pink Floyd would have hung their head in disappointment.
I never considered the parts of the moon I couldn’t see.
But tonight, I was told a story about the moon, its eclipses, and our connection to the parts of the moon when it’s cloaked in shadow.
Every night, the moon enters a different phase, where we can only see the part of the moon that’s alight, because of our position on the Earth. This happens when there’s a lunar eclipse too. The moon is hidden in shadow because the Earth has turned and cut off the sun.