“Let us cross the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”
last words of Stonewall Jackson
The moon has always been a major symbol for me, as long as I can remember. In the play, Our Town, which we read in junior high, there are references to the moon being “terrible”. That made an impact on my mind I have never forgotten
and is one of the ways I have experienced the moon, the fierceness of its light.
A second way is seeing the moon in the upper branches of a tree, as if it is a silver crown. Third way is seeing the moon in daylight, like a white petal torn from a white rose. Fourth is the new moon, just a sliver, like a clipped fingernail.
But last night I saw nothing at all, except maybe a smudge of light inside heavy rain.
It is hard to believe there was a time when we were young enough to think
all issues would be resolved one day, everything revealed and understood, even why the creation came into being. Revealed and understood not by scriptures or science, or the revelations of others but through our own experience.
Now I look forward to evening time, my cup of tea, a time of day so quiet you can hear a sparrow beating its wings, or a rabbit small as a rat nibbling some blade of grass. These small things are precious to me now as I imagined far grander revelations would be.
Let the little become the big and the big be shouldered by someone else. Now I know that where there is a gathering of power, there is also corruption. The man who knows he is without power is a man on the verge of being free from its imaginary gifts.