My Love of the Moon

I braved the bitter cold this morning and went crazy taking pictures of the beautiful moon. I’ve had a thing for the moon ever since I was in high school, perhaps because it was a part of my escape. When I was feeling too depressed, too anxious, too stressed, too suffocated I would go into my backyard at night and look at the moon while swinging on the old swing set from when I was a kid. Or I would giddily dance around, pretending the moon was my partner. Sometimes I’d just lay on the ground and look up at its soft, white glow, so much less harsh than the daylight. It was a time I could peel off all of my masks, step off the stage, stop pretending and just be myself. I wrote a lot of poems about the moon when I was younger. Here are a few of them.

alone
in the black night,
no, not so alone,
the white half moon
stalking me as I walk
like a sly black cat,
slinking around
amidst shadows and silhouettes,
waiting for a chance to
POUNCE!

Moon (and me)

standing in a dream
stripped to nothing
no need to hide
only share
the pale yellow orb
cradled in the night’s
smooth and black satin sky

Sky’s Canvas

silver moon
resting like a shadow
in the felt canvas sky,
slowly fading

soft clouds
gently stretched across
the dawning morn
of the felt canvas sky,
slowly fading

unique-2032274_1280

I tend to be a go-against-the-crowd sort of person. If everyone else is doing it, I’m probably not doing it. If everyone else isn’t doing it, I maybe am. So I’m not going to write about how I’ve spent time reflecting on the last year. The past is almost always with me. I obsess about it enough, so I don’t need a holiday to force me to do it even more. And I certainly am not going to make New Year’s resolutions. I do, however, have a goal. You know, if you’ve read some of my previous posts, how huge that is! I’m not a goal setter. Awhile back, I wrote of my weight-loss goal and how I finally achieved it. I maintained that weight for a few months. Then Thanksgiving and Christmas came along and I ate way too much, gained a few pounds back. So my new goal is to not only get back to that original target weight, but to also lose five more pounds beyond it by my birthday the end of March. Right now, that would be about eight pounds in a little less than three months. Totally doable right? I’m hoping that posting my goal on here will be a big motivator. I really do want to be able to come back, on my birthday, and say that I achieved my goal. Here’s hoping!

Silence

I hate silence. I suppose you could say it’s ironic considering that’s what my name means. I could have written so many things this last week. I had all this time because my kids spent most of the week at their dad’s. But the silence was too oppressive. It felt like a weight pressing into my chest, slowly getting heavier and heavier, about to crush my sternum at any second. So I’d watch TV or turn on loud music to distract myself from the lack of noise, from the fact that I was alone . . . feeling so lonely and empty. I thought about writing, but I couldn’t do it. Even now, I want to keep typing. Any time the click of the keys stops the silence threatens to suffocate me.

There have been many times in church I’ve heard people talk about the necessity of silence, of finding time to block out all the noise and listen for the whisperings of the Spirit. This doesn’t work for me. The Spirit doesn’t speak to me in the silence of my room. Obsessive thoughts come in the silence—that’s why I hate it. Without any noise, my mind can’t help but run over all those worst-case-scenarios I sometimes fear or replay all of my obsessive thoughts that threaten to consume me. So I can’t be one of those people who goes into my room to escape the noise. I need the noise.

New Year's Eve_11.jpg

Nature is a place that brings me comfort, peace, the ability to tune in to the Spirit. It is quiet in nature, but rarely ever silent. This afternoon I drove out to Antelope Island, on the Great Salt Lake, and experienced one of these needed moments of solitude where I, yet, didn’t feel alone. It was quiet, but not silent. A father spoke to his children, tall grasses rustled in the breeze, a hawk called to another. Distraction was lifted from my mind, loneliness forgotten.

Music is a necessity in my life. I have found answers to many prayers through music. I have felt peace, comfort, understanding—the Spirit—through music. The most spiritual and personally sacred experience of my life happened one day while I was out in Nature listening to a song by Live. It is an experience seared into my memory and my heart, one so personal I have only shared it with a couple of people.

Some people crave the silence. For some it is useful, helpful, needed. I am not one of those people. I will take the quiet stillness of nature, but I will also take the loud beating of drums and the chatter of my children.