The Moon Sees Me

I'm down here on Earth, staring at a full Moon. A full Moon that I know will eclipse during the wee hours on the other side of the world...and now I'm kinda wondering if it knows, like if somebody were staring down at me just before I walked straight into an enormous shadow but couldn't tell me, warn me, would I know? Would I want to?

I can't warn the Moon. The Moon has done this a zillion times and is clearly unconcerned with my foresight. And the moon probably doesn't speak English. Or Icelandic. Or whatever languages are in my head or heart or spirit. 

I used to tell myself that healing was slow, sweet, and golden...but guarded by bees, like honey. I'd say that you'd either have to work like mad to make it, or endure the sting to get it.

I was probably right. But now, I'd say that it's probably both of those things. Healing is loads of unrewarding work and tears that make no sense and that feeling like somebody, something stepped on your chest and crushed you, that they reached down your throat to personally pulverize your heart. It feels fuzzy but not like a blanket, instead like a fog.

Like a shadow.

And on the other hand, healing makes no sense if there's nothing to heal. If you've never been stung, you don't need lavender or witch hazel or tweezers.

But it is true that it's slow. Slow both in pace and in displacement, because it's nonlinear as all get out and setbacks feel like failing and hurting and dying, probably, dying before this is over.

Dying before this is over is how everybody gets out, but do me a favor and take that statement without indulging in the temptation of focusing on morbidity. It isn't morbid; it's the truth. We die before this is over because the "over" doesn't look like being restored. 

"Over" is somebody who died of old age, but lived with everything else. Learned how to live with it, learned how to manage it, learned how to love herself in spite of it, learned how to finally let somebody love her completely.

That's "over." 

And the Moon will be just fine.

I don't have any pictures of the Moon, but here's another pretty night thing.