bad eclipse stealthie

Ok, I am a total fail on eclipse pictures.

I did no preparation, no reading and failed! I was clueless! Go ahead and laugh at me! But many thanks to my 10 am patient, because all of us were excited and ran outside to see if we could see the eclipse. I did not have the right sort of filter for my phone. I did make a pinhole in paper and took the bad picture below… we could see the eclipse on a piece of paper held behind the pinhole paper. I remembered those instructions from when I was a kid!

I did not take off because I just can’t afford any more time off than I’ve taken – run my own small business, dontcha know – and I leave for a week of CME in September. CME stands for Continuing Medical Education and I do a minimum of 50 hours a year.

We had fun anyway… and I want to go to the next eclipse…. well, the next one that is somewhere and somewhen I can afford.

bad pic

Terrible, huh? And I am happy anyhow!

I hope you find some joy in your day, somewhere….

moon in morning

For the weekly Photo Prompt: Ohh, Shiny!

But, you say, it isn’t shiny.

No, it isn’t. Because even shiny things today are not distracting me from my grief about our country, the lack of ethical morals in our government and twitterpated tweets going out daily.

And here is the moon watching as the sun rises and light and warmth fall over the earth. The mood matches mine: quiet and still thinking of the dark and of love and of hatred and of grief.

Moon in mourning.

 

Moon rise

My sleep cycle is a bit messed up, so I am up in the night. Here is a moon rise, more blue….

Doing rural medicine and attending deliveries and inpatient and call for years, I don’t worry if my sleep cycle is off time. I am happy to fall asleep early and don’t care if I am up in the night! There were years where I had call weekends of 72 hours or worked in clinic after a clinic day and being up most of the night. I like sleep but I don’t worry about when…. it is all good….

Full lunar eclipse

Long long ago, when the universe was forming, the Moon fell in love with the Sun.

The Moon was afraid that the Sun wouldn’t see her, because the Sun was so bright. Slowly she pulled herself together. After careful thought, she chose to orbit the Earth.

Now it is another full lunar eclipse. Her face reflects the Sun’s glory back to him. She slides behind the Earth in a three hour version of her usual cycle, from full to only her own light back to full.

“Where are you, Moon?” bellows the Sun. He hates these quick disappearances. He yells and bellows and tantrums. But the Moon knows that he will forget quickly and that he has not bothered to learn and predict her cycles. He doesn’t like to be reminded of loss and endings and death.

The Sun likes it best when he has her full glory, face reflected back to him. He doesn’t see her light. Each month she moves from reflecting his light towards her quiet time when it is only her light that is visible from Earth. She needs this time to remember that she has her own light, even if it is a shadow compared with the sun.

“You should orbit me!” says the Sun, but the Moon knows that if she orbited him she would be burned and barren and dead, no rest and no light of her own. One night a month the Moon remembers who she is and is alone. She lets her quiet darkness shine. The Earth whispers, “Why do you love the Sun so? Don’t cry, Sister.” The Earth’s salt water tides move like tears.

Sometimes the Moon longs for ending, but she remembers: all love, returned or not, is longing and praise for the Beloved. Maybe she will not be loved or seen as she longs to be in this life, but she too will return to the Beloved and be One. And after her time in the dark she slowly returns to reflecting the Sun.

And the Sun loves her in his way. He loves to watch his reflection grow on her face each month, preens in it, until she is full. He is more irritable in the second half, as she turns her face away again. She wishes that he would look past his own light and see her.

Now the little eclipse is ending and she is rapidly becoming full again. The Sun is cheering up.

“It’s silly of you to hide your face.” says the Sun, fondly.

The moon does not smile. The Sun sees his own smile reflected in her face.

 

I took the photo in 2009 at Joshua Tree.

Moon song

Another poem that I adored as a child and still do is Moon Song by Mildred Plew Meigs.

Moon song

Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon–
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings him a silvered net
Fashioned of moonbeams three.

And some folk say when the net lies long
And the midnight hour is ripe;
The moon man fishes for some old song
That fell from a sailor’s pipe.

And some folk say that he fishes the bars
Down where the dead ships lie,
Looking for lost little baby stars
That slid from the slippery sky.

And the waves roll out and the waves roll in
And the nodding night wind blows,
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.

This poem is the mystery of the moon and of the moon’s light path on the sea. With any little waves the moon path looks like a net. And again, this is a poem that plays with the sound of the words and the rhymes with moon and sea and waves and water, fashioned into beauty….

Zoon, zoon, net of the moon
Rides on the wrinkling sea;
Bright is the fret and shining wet,
Fashioned of moonbeams three.

And some folk say when the great net gleams
And the waves are dusky blue,
The moon man fishes for two little dreams
He lost when the world was new.

And some folk say in the late night hours,
While the long fin-shadows slide,
The moon man fishes for cold sea flowers
Under the tumbling tide.

And the waves roll out and the waves roll in
And the gray gulls dip and doze,
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.

At church two weeks ago our minister talked about people standing on the shore at night under the moon. Each person sees the moon path leading right towards them and the people on either side appear to be in shadow and the moon path does not appear to lead to them. This is a Unitarian Church and he was talking about the idea of the sacred and about fundamentalism: maybe it is all moon paths. Each group is seeing a clear path to the sacred and wonders why the others are standing in the dark.

Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon–
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings him a silvered net
Fashioned of moonbeams three.

And some folk say that he follows the flecks
Down where the last light flows,
Fishing for two round gold-rimmed “specs”
That blew from his button-like nose.

And some folk say while the salt sea foams
And the silver net lines snare,
The moon man fishes for carven combs
That float from the mermaids’ hair.

And the waves roll out and the waves roll in
And the nodding night wind blows,
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.

We had the Golden Book of poetry and I also loved the illustration by Gertrude Eliot that went with it. Little mermaids, combs floating from their hair, the moon and his gold spectacles in the depths….

My sister and I both loved this poem and both meant to memorize it. I haven’t yet.