I was trying to help Mrs. Boffin and John Roguesmith set up a page in InDesign. The text field wasn’t snapping to the border of the page, and little Johnny was dying. We had to get this done.
I woke up. Whew. Perhaps I should take a day off. This book project has seeped into my unconscious mind, and blended with the Charles Dickens story Our Mutual Friend, currently in heavy audiobook rotation while driving. Why couldn’t it have been a dream about finding a golden ticket in the coffee bag, or beating God in a game of craps, and boasting about it to Einstein? “Boxcars again! Bad luck, sir…” (Ten points if anyone gets the science reference.) But I digress…Time for a glass of water.
The Scene
A lonely patch of moonlight creeping into a dark room is persuasive to wonder, and compelling to action. There it was, by the desk on the floor, calling. The latch on the door softly clicked as I went outside for a peek. She was well past Long Mountain, the full Strawberry Moon she was, glowing in a hazy sky. The air was lock still, stuck in place with humidity. Two Chuck-Wills-Widows called to each other somewhere off in the pines.
My bare feet padded in the dewy grass. The scene was frozen still, tranquil, bright. I marveled at the beauty.
A soft snort announced that I wasn’t alone. The horses were in the side yard. Jack quietly grazed, fescue for his midnight snack. A few others were bedded down, sleeping…lightly. Another snort, a jump to the feet…an irritated snuffle. The mare was awake, and partook of the midnight fescue after looking around at the two-legged interloper. “Sorry, shhhh…” Chomp chomp chomp. The sounds seemed magnified in the still of the night, the horses shimmering in the moonlight.
With gratitude, I crept back to bed. The Strawberry Moon sailed on in the brilliant sky, high overhead the sleeping land.
The Point?
I knew I had to blog this. But why? Sure, I like sharing, and consider myself a champion for the unnoticed beauty of the odd hours and wayside roses.
However, reducing the scene to a trite reminder to experience said roses seems…clumsy, a cake snatched out of the oven too soon and flipped unceremoniously on the plate. PLOP. “Therefore, let us eat.”
Well, yes, and no.
Advice
I’m alarmed with my unholy affinity for giving advice.
I guess it’s easier than work, and absolves me of the need to think.
Letting it Cook
And so, the obvious (and uncomfortable) struck me this morning. Perhaps the point should be left to cook until ready. Maybe it was the absurdity of a Taylor Swift motivational quote of how to be a good person that made this click.
Perhaps I’ll never understand the Strawberry Moon and drowsy horses. It’s currently too nuanced for me.
Perhaps I should follow my own advice.
An antidote to the madness currently besetting the world isn’t a new ideology. Each one is more dangerous than the next if we aren’t able to parse it. Thinking is vital, and painful. It’s the oven in which we bake those points until ready.
My brain gets tired. I want it to be done now. “And therefore, the Strawberry moon shows that there is beauty everywhere.” Watched pots never boil, and ardent statements don’t cook things faster. (At least for me.)
Hey, maybe that’s a point after all.
However, if this convoluted wander were cast into sound, it would be the confused din of a machine shop next door to a glass recycling plant. Perhaps it’s best left to poetry.
Hafiz sums it up well:
WHAT SHOULD WE DO ABOUT THAT MOON?
A wine bottle fell from a wagon, and broke open in a field.
That night one hundred beetles and all their cousins gathered
And did some serious binge drinking.
The even found some seed husks nearby, and began to plan them like drums and whirl. This made God very happy.
Then the “night candle” rose into the sky, and one drunk creature, laying down his instrument, said to his friend - for no apparent reason,
“What should we do about that moon?”
Seems to Hafiz, Most everyone has laid aside the music
Tackling such profoundly useless
Questions.
Whatever we come up with regarding points, thinking, and how to navigate through dark times…did you enjoy the moon?
Josh