Sunday, October 3

waning crescent

this morning we woke up at first light, well enough rested, and after wrapping myself up in a fuzzy robe, I sat outside while the dogs sniffed around, watching the eastern edges of the sky turn colors.

I love seeing this happen. dawn. morning. sunrises. 

this time of year is especially great for it. the sun takes its time, the horizon for me today was obscured by the wall around our property, the tree on the left, more trees beyond that one.

but the sky is all still there, spread out behind everything, changing from dark to light under a mottled scrape of east-to-west cloud.

the cloud turned colors too-- from a grey smudge to grey-blue, then purple, before pink and flaming. I couldn't see the sun itself but I saw all the colors it was throwing around. 

my bare feet got cold. little Hamilton pawed at me to let him up on my lap. early hikers passed by on the trail behind our house. I noticed a mourning dove huddled on the edge of the back wall. a trio of crows swooped overhead. 

after a while, I stood up and walked a ways out from under our back-porch awning. up, up above the treeline and the blazing pink-gold clouds, the brilliant, bright white moon smiled down at us. it hung there tipped over on its side, a slim crescent against the blue morning. it surprised me, how solid and silvery and high it still was, with the sun right there on its tail.

I had to look this up to remind myself properly of the order of all the lunar phases, but as it happens, we're under a waning crescent moon today. at this point in her rhythm, she's pulling all her shine into her other half, turning and shrinking away, saving it for whoever is out on the other side. maybe it's just her, there with all the sunbeams-made-moonbeams. with no obligations to reflect it for anyone else at all. 

I've been thinking about that aspect of the moon for a while now. about how much value there is in that new moon phase-- how through all the never-ending cycles of waxing and waning and shining and spinning, there's plenty of time when the moon seems to keep her light to herself.

maybe that's a lesson I'm learning this year. this season. 

shining full-blast for everyone else all the time is a recipe for burnout and depression and resentment. and it's gotta be okay-- more than okay-- to use your talents just because you feel like it, even if nobody else will see or care or show up for it. my own reasons can be enough.

nature is pretty awesome, even if some portion of what we see as awesome in it is projected personifications and metaphors. so what? we are nature too. all of us and our stories have a place in the wild and shifting colors of the sky, clouds and moonlight and all.

I'm so grateful for cool, crisp morning sunrises and a tidy backyard to enjoy them in. so grateful for this space and time and everything I can learn from it.

not today's sunrise. just one sunrise of many

No comments: