Not So Remarkable Moon: An Emily Wright original rant about shared secrets, human behaviour, and time.
As though drawn by a child, the giant moon hung in the sky like an orange glowing orb. It hovered over the horizon so mesmerizing it was difficult to look away.
Likely an aftermath from the morning’s announcement of some rare lunar eclipse that happens but once every seventy years. Investing in or building excitement for these rare natural occurrences without the hype is near impossible. How could something occur so infrequently be such a big deal, if I heard nothing of it until mere moments before it took place? While sipping my first cup of coffee to greet the day, my television screen was bombarded with images of this blood moon, in its perfect roundness in a red hue.
As soon as we turn the lights out on Halloween, people gear up for Christmas which comes around every twelve months. Consider the hype of Superbowl for that matter. Yet, a natural occurrence that takes place once in our lifetime and I got thirty seven minutes notice. Most of the world wasn’t even out of bed yet and were destined to miss it. Maybe that is the point.
People celebrate the same moments over and over again in hopes to capture once felt joy. We are chasing the childhood experience of Christmas each year. It is our lives mission to guarantee every child has a chance to see the magic of the season. When what we are really doing is holding on to our own history of being young with loved ones who are no longer, a time that has since passed. Because we know that not every child celebrates Christmas and their childhood is no less magical and joyful.
But do we ever stop to considered that what we are always ever doing is celebrating time in increments that are convenient to our busy lives? We would not dare suggest that those who were sleeping through the lunar blood moon eclipse missed out on something that will likely never happen again in their lifetime. For that reason we will minimize this remarkable moon for the sake a people.
As I sit here preparing to welcome the new day, I take a moment, this moment and appreciate that it is fleeting. It will never happen again. 6:42 am on Wednesday, November 9, 2022 will never happen again. Each morning I will wake up and try and recreate it, not that there was anything remarkable about this moment, not that I will notice until something is different or more specifically, something is lost.
For right now, I sit, sipping by coffee with my dog curled up by my side. I am comforted by the idea that my children remain in a peaceful slumber and all other loved ones go about their regular day, I am doing what I love best, and hold onto the hope that I can do the same tomorrow while accepting that there will come a time when I cannot.