Moon Memory

She has always been there, an ever shifting force that brings together the various stages of my life. Through her various phases. Just out of reach, but always right there. As if right beside me. Above the tree branches, whether bare or lush. Among the stars and other celestial bodies, influencing us from afar. I remember as far back as fourth grade, knowing that the moon was more than just a lifeless rock in the heavens. More than just a reflective stone for the light of the sun. The moon was intelligent, somehow alive. And I felt this in my bones, and knew this to be true. I have many memories of looking up and speaking directly to her. Asking for help when I needed it. Asking to learn what she knew. I asked the moon to teach me to sing, sitting up in the willow tree, when I was still small enough to feel enclosed and concealed in its branches. 

I have many memories that stand out because of the moon. Because she was there, above it all, shining a glow upon the events in which I was living. We would sing a song in outdoor school called “Baby Moon”. It’s the only song I actually remember. All of the others seemed less important to me in comparison. So many night drives through the city, with the white orb hovering in the distance. Outshining even the thousands of lit up apartment buildings, street lights, headlights. And nights spent in the sand dunes on the coast. It was a full moon that night, illuminating the sands like a spotlight. As if we were temporarily in another world. A world where the cold glow of the moon and the ocean wind and the sounds of lapping water stretched on forever. 

She’s always there, through the trees. Just out of reach but somehow right beside me. When I’m awake and in my dreams. Often, to remind me of things I may have forgotten. When I have slipped into a hard place, I can look up and receive a flood of these memories. And so I continue to log, to create new memories that one day I will look back on. Dancing under the moon, leaving offerings underneath her when she’s new. Hypnotized by a sliver of silver. Each time it’s different. And just as the tides are pushed and pulled by her influence, so to are we pushed and pulled. The waters inside of us responding to a higher order of things. Being called back to what we have forgotten.