Thursday, October 1, 2015
These last few nights have been filled with the so-called Supermoon, which, to me is not so much noticeably bigger (or, for that matter, more super in any way) as much as much, much brighter than normal. On Saturday night there was an eclipse of the full moon, but since we were clouded up we didn't see much.
However, once the eclipse was over, the full, brighter-than-normal moon lit up the clouds to a point where I could easily have read a newspaper outside. It honestly looked like a kind of crazy dawn stretching from horizon to horizon from midnight until the real dawn actually broke through several hours later.
And for as many nights as we've had the "supermoon," we've also had a bird that's decided to spend her evenings in the tree outside our bedroom window. And it's been so bright she sings -- beautiful, long, eloquent songs at different points throughout the night. She's a fairly common species of bird we see around our property a lot. During the day, she makes noises I can only describe as a "smooching" sound. That's all her and her other bird friends do all day long -- talk to each other from tree to tree..."Smooch! Smooch!"
But at night....she perches alone and sings a lunar opera of her own design and composing.
Too many of us sing our best song only when we're alone and we think no one is awake or listening. In the harsh light of day we make the same noises as all the fellow travelers in our life's orbit, but during the small hours, we think, dream, and maybe even sing our true colors.
I think the world would be a better place if we all sang our deepest song in the clear light of day, for everyone to hear, instead of just making the noises we think are expected of us, which are usually not particularly inspired or beautiful. Why do we keep our deepest and most inspired selves locked away safely until we think no one else is listening?
Why pretend you are just another smoochy-bird when you are actually, in your deepest soul, a composer of nocturnes and a singer of moonlight librettos, performed under a moon as bright as the dawn?