I am so little, I thought, as the full moon caught me off guard, reminding me of my insignificance. The fields around me had been harvested for at least a month and I could hear cattle lowing in the farmers’ fields. The quiet night filled my ears with the constant reminder that I am nothing but a hiccup in comparison to the moon’s wide expanse lighting up the the world at that moment. The full moon reminded me that we are nothing but playthings for the stars.
And while I am so little in comparison to something so magnificent, I am reminded that I am not insignificant. It is easy for me to fall into an all to familiar depression, of feeling inept and clumsy. Yet this time the moon reminded me that there is beauty in being full of light even if it is considered the lesser of both heavenly stars. The planet might revolve around the sun but we dream by the moon.
The moon, too, must feel so little when it begins to wax or wane. I imagine it must want to glow in spite of the darkness that makes it shrink inside of itself until it blooms in fulness again. Does it ever feel insignificant even when it pulls the tide of every ocean? Or is the ocean what gives the moon enough hope to keep its dark side hidden from us?
When I looked up at the moon I asked her to give me her secrets and I felt her sigh deeply. The night grew silent as if to eavesdrop on our conversation and I waited in expectation. The moon exhaled, the trees swayed by her breath, and she whispered to me, “Wax or wane, we are the same. I know the dark as if I created it.”
We are so little but we are far from overwhelmed by the dark.