I went out to my deck tonight and looked at the moon, and reminisced to when I looked at the same moon rising over Lake Michigan just yesterday. The same moon. It’s hard to believe.
What makes the moon so much different viewed from a spot on earth three hundred-forty miles away from my home? Yesterday I saw the moon rising over a body of water that reflected tiny pinpoints of light. Tonight it illuminates my back yard. Yesterday the moon shone over a vast area as far as the eye can see. Tonight it peeks between treetops and the tops of houses. Yesterday the moon was the center of the universe. Tonight it was merely a reminder of the universe.
The same moon from a different place on earth. Why do I feel more in sync with the universe when I see the moon rising over the water? Why do I simply wish for other things when I see the moon rise over the rooftops? Sunrises don’t touch me as much. The moon, that’s something completely different.
The moon over Lake Michigan makes my mind soar. It makes me wish for things I know aren’t practical. It makes me part of something I can’t explain. Potential. A Divine plan.
I’m tucked into my comfort zone once again and the moon is quite a sight. But yesterday, over the great lake, it was a beacon of possibility.
Auntie B's Wax 