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Meaning in the Moon


I was lucky enough to grow up in the country where a clear night revealed infinite stars, the milky way, and philosophies on the meaning of existence. Sometimes with my friends Megan and Trinity, we’d bundle up in sleeping bags zipped around our faces so only our eyes were exposed. We’d stare at the stars while they showed themselves, extending our vision deeper and deeper into never ending space. Then as a teenager, my friends and I would risk being prey to vicious cougars, bears and mosquitos, to run naked through the neighbour’s hay field while howling at the moon and listening to the answer of the wolves.


I remember only one time catching the aurora borealis with my dad. It was before the trees had grown tall in front of the Adams’ field, and the green lights leapt and hummed in the sky like absolute magic.


My bedroom window was the scariest of theatres. I’d see faces swaying and moaning in the tall fir trees lining our driveway. The stary night beyond them was threatening with its vastness and infinite possibility. Who was looking at me while I slept? Forget the monsters under my bed, fear the aliens stealing my vulnerable body if I dare fall asleep!


But ultimately, aliens or not, time spent out in the darkness provides me with a deep sense of belonging, comfort and resolve. If I am quiet and just listen to the frogs, and owls, rain and wind, crackles in the forest or fire, my own breath, I will see that I am a part of this whole illusion.

I especially find connection in the moon. *They’re like a large reset button on my overactive mind. I. Am. Dust. Every crater, bump, shadow and illuminated surface is perfectly imperfect. I see myself in that face, and I know everything is going to be fine, fine as dust. These worries I have? More dust. Immensely small. Not invalid, but eventually with a good dose of time, my problems will be insignificant.


The moon is constantly there for me. When the shadow of the earth softly covers them, or the clouds obscure my view, I don’t doubt their presence. I can count on their return for as long as I am here. The sounds of creatures, vibrations of the wind and weather in my ears, and the pull of the moon’s gravity on the water that I am made of, proves I am profoundly connected to this universe. The energy that holds me onto the earth, and the light that travels unfathomable distances to my eyes, is driving home my very purpose, to be here. Can we just enjoy this magic, and let go of expectations and the need to have, do, and be MORE?


I want you to know, you are never alone, and you will always belong. When you see the moon’s light, and their glorious, divine and unshaken faces, find comfort knowing that this light travels as a thread in a story that runs forever before you, through you, and beyond you. Let the moon be a symbol, a beacon announcing, we are all connected.


*In an effort to personify the moon in an inclusive way, I am experimenting with pronouns in this post.

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