Crystalline darkness, purple haze, dark trees trunks and clattering branches, so cold that breath turns solid and falls like glitter into nothingness. Frigid black sky dome pierced with blue burning stars, their tiny light reaching across the cosmos to twinkle in my eyes. A large cold moon rises just above the hill, casting purple shadows across the glowing snowscape. Reflected moonlight on the snow is almost as bright daylight, but softer and much colder. The air is blue and purple and the ground is glowing while the big crystal moon rises higher above her domain. Reach out and touch the darkness, the blue moonlight shining on earth and above, become the moonlight, shifting shadows, and dizzy dreams.
Walking around the house in the frozen dark with a basket of wet clean laundry in my arms, looking up at the night sky, bright with a zillion twinkling stars. Deepest black transparent void, pin pricked with tiny sparkling white lights from mind boggling distances away. Time and space have different dimensional meanings when gazing into the night sky. I make my way around to the front walk and the thinnest slice of moon peeks around the big hemlock tree. Blue white, glowing silver sliver hanging low, I wan to reach out and touch it. Crescent moon smiling down from her domain, and faintly outlined in a shimmering almost imagined perfect circle is the rest of her invisible shadowed body. I feel blessed by the simple pleasure of bathing in the singing moonlight.
Standing in the kitchen, staring blankly out the empty black hole that during the day is a large picture window looking out into our small part of the world. Not really thinking of anything, just spacing out the way we all sometimes do. I slowly realize I am looking at a light, bright, but not illuminating anything. I wonder if it is the solar light my husband recently installed to light up the passage to the basement. It quit working after a few days because where it’s placed, it doesn’t get enough sunlight to charge. My brain starts waking up to solve this mystery, it isn’t the solar light, not in the correct place. So what is it. It looks kind of like the moon, but the moon is up high on the other side of the house, and this is down from where I am standing. It does not make sense. I move closer to the window and lean over the sink to get a better look and the glowing blue ball of light disappears. What?! I step back and there it is again. I step side to side, it ripples on either edge, beside it something glints in the darkness like obsidian in moonlight. OOOOHHHHHH!!!! Wow! Across from the kitchen window is our Red Shed. Its roof of this shed is the cap off my Little Red Truck (long gone to the crusher). There is a slightly open side window facing the kitchen. It is at just the right angle to catch and reflect the full moon hanging just above the trees, out of sight from all the other windows. But here in the kitchen, looking in the opposite direction I can see a perfectly reflected image of this cold, aloof, shining orb of stark beauty.
I go to yoga classes somewhat randomly. The studios around here have regular schedules of course, but some weeks I turn up a few times, and other weeks, not at all. I tend to do my own practice at home a little randomly as well. I don’t make a regular schedule to stick to. In the summer I usually try to do my yoga routine before white water rafting, but I also really like sleeping until the last possible minute. However, I immensely enjoyed all the yoga classes I do attend. My body, mind, and spirit respond well to the meditative deep breathing, the flowing energy of controlled movement, the challenge of holding difficult poses, the release of tension, toxins, and anxiety, and the letting go into complete relaxation. So imagine having this intense and wonderful experience while catching glimpses of Grandmother Moon out the window. She’s a couple of days from full, so there is an odd, not quite round shape to her bottom. She is slightly fuzzy with an indistinct edge, hanging sleepily above the bare trees in a hazy tired bleached blue sky, the sun gone below the horizon, and night setting it. Whenever I stand up in a stretching salutation move, she is there, groggily smiling down at us. As the sky darkens, she brightens, wakes up, rubs the glaze from her edges and shines. Grandmother moon watching over all of us.
Tromping through the woods, snow crunching underfoot, leaving big oval tracks where the snow shoes grip. Sun low on the horizon, golden yellow light pouring between the bare trees enriching all their glorious colors: tan, sand, taupe, fawn, toast, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, camel, caramel, coco, coffee, coffee and cream, rich, glowing, golden brown. They all are dazzling and warm in the yellow sunlight. The warmth is an illusion however, the shadow sides are dark, cold, ranging from whitish gray to black. Of course, I can pick which side to gaze at until the sun slips below the horizon, then the whole woods will sink into frozen winter darkness. But for now I can close my eyes to face into the sun, feel its week radiant heat penetrate the 8 or so sun minutes of space and earth’s long angled atmosphere to warm my face and light up the trees with its golden rays. The sky above is still pale blue, the leafless branches, silhouetted against it. I notice the half moon hanging quietly above it all, watching gracefully over the wintry landscape, waiting for darkness to shine her bright sliver self. Half a moon hiding behind and peeking around the illuminated branches as I walk. Silver moon and golden sun, white snow, glowing trees. Peace.