Nor the moon by night.
These magic words. Sometimes people are laid heavy under the full light of the moon or made tiny by the endless vast dark night sky. But when I need to see the hidden power of what others call God or need to regain my perspective, I go outside at night. Skywatching, star gazing, it gives the world the rightness that it needs for me to go on.
I've been reading Camilla, a very good book, but in some ways, a very hard read. It has thrown my perspective off and as we've logged no calls, I needed to find another way to once again feel that. So I found a long-sleeved light sweater, and went into the backyard to lay in the hammock and look upon that bright, beautiful full moon.
(Technically, it is not a full moon any longer. That moment came and passed at 1716 this evening. But people mostly have no idea that any thing, including the truly full moon, are fleeting fast moments.)
As I lay with my eyes closed in that weightless feeling in the cool night air, I heard the late night orchestra of the cicadas, a beautiful accompanment to the silver light of the moon splashing upon me in the gently swaying hammock. For a few moments, the earth was still with my mind, the many thoughts and worries and even the lesser things, such as my physical state, were not a concern or even existing. It was all good and light and lovely, and as I rested there, I could feel myself giddy with happiness and smiling.
How can anyone feel smited by the white light of the moon?