Constant Moon
An Essay by Stephen Geez
www.StephenGeez.com
Art by Dizzy
Was a time not too awfully long ago I sat with a friend on a warm velvet-sky night and admired the splendor of the full moon. He turned to me and suggested I write an essay about our planet’s sole lunar companion.
As if to assert I can, would, have, and often do write on just about any mundane topic, I promised someday I would get around to it. Some months later I asked Fresh Ink Group artist Dizzy if he would render me his vision of a full moon, something conveying notions of majesty and omniscience, and most certainly—at which Dizzy’s depictions excel—something with a bit of, you know, attitude. He did, and I promptly filed and forgot about it.
Until now!
Last night the moon caught my eye. It seemed to have an attitude, and that reminded me of my friend. So after waiting too long, I’m now writing about the moon; and as if to prove I can, would, have, and often do write about things that aren’t really what I’m writing about, I’m going to make the true subject of this essay more obvious than usual. I’m about to compare the moon to one’s loyal, lifelong friend.
Now, everybody who can see has seen the moon. We’ve all been aware of it since at least our younger days when somebody clutching a book of rhymes yammered at us about a cow jumping over it.
We’ve been told, also likely in those early years, that the moon is made of cheese—green cheese, specifically—and maybe for a time we even bought that kind of malarkey. Legend has it that a lot of auld-days moon-gazers truly did believe it, and given many people’s patently prevalent propensity to perpetuate ancient myths at the expense of modern science, I’m sure a national poll would turn up at least a significant percentage of adherents who still assert the cheese explanation.
It has even been said that the moon’s influence can encourage a soul to do crazy things, to engage in the behavior of, well, a lunatic. Heck, what’s a bit of benign lunacy between loony friends?
What we know of the moon is that it’s quite a big chunk of elemental matter. As hypotheses are painstakingly tested until they become overwhelmingly supported theories, it appears that luna most likely originated from a cataclysmic event that broke it off from what would eventually become our own orbiting world: terra—earth, if you will. Though an entity of its own now, the moon is still a part of us, exerting a constant pull on our world, on our bodies, and even on our psyches.
Pretty much like a true friend.
Friendship is something we feel. Friends exert a pull on us. Can one truly be a friend and not be lowered by a loved one’s pain, or lifted by the elations of those we cherish?
Children are awed by how the moon seems to follow them around. Watch out the car window on a long night drive, and gosh durn it if that ol’ buddy isn’t right out there following along, making every turn, keeping an eye out, enjoying the journey, sharing the ups and downs.
Study a full moon near the horizon, maybe hanging just above some buildings, and it looks substantially bigger than it will later as it rises higher in the sky. Many assume this is caused by atmospheric distortion, but the biggest factor is optical illusion, entirely in the mind, perception as a matter of mental perspective. It’s affected by proximity, comparative objects appearing nearby in the visual field. A mere building in the foreground reminds us how massive that familiar compadre out in space truly is. Higher up, left to float above in lonesome isolation, its presence is felt, but its impact is blunted.
Sometimes a good friend seems like no big deal, but bring some of that perspective into the picture and we can’t help but notice, and be reminded. It can be a moment of joy, such as when the best man or maid of honor stands close, right there in the picture. It can be the worst of times, even when a friend is helpless but to say: I know this journey is hard, but keep watching out the window; I’m following along, making every turn, keeping an eye out, sharing the ups and downs.
As we hurtle through life, sometimes a friend is out of sight, below the horizon, but we know he or she will always come back. Sometimes our loved one is shining bright, or maybe we see only a sliver while slanted light and skewed perception play tricks with our eyes. Sometimes, even, in the new moon, we see only darkness, and we have to strain to find what we know in our hearts is still there.
You see, even when the moon is black, or halfway around the world, we know it, too, is always there. We can feel it bending us to our core and shifting our oceans with massive tides.
So pause for a moment, consider this simple truth, then say thanks to your best friend.
And remember: no matter how far, that ol’ moon is always close enough to reach out and touch.
That ought to make you jump for joy.
Still, I think that moon-jumping cow must have been a real lunatic.
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© The Fresh Ink Group, LLC, 2008
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