Blue Moon

Another journal entry-

(Friday, January 1st, 2010- 5:10 am, WJF)

The full moon- the blue moon of December, the rare occurrence of a blue moon on New Year's Eve- is hanging very high in the southwestern sky.  I have to bend low to see it from the bedroom window because a cornice of snow, a gift from the Christmas snowstorm, takes up so much of the available window. The effort however, is small and the reward is large.  A shiny disk is what I see. A two-dimensional or is it a one-dimensional object high in the sky-suffusing the whole night with reflected sunlight-with light reflected from earth. Only the brightest planets remain visible under the intensity of the light. Shadows are distinct; knife-cut edges define the branches of the trees, the pockmarked paw prints in the backyard snow.  I know, from continued experiments that the moonlight is generous enough to allow one to read words printed on a page. I have proven it to myself more than once just because I can.

The blue moon rose yesterday afternoon as the sun set. Does one pull or push the other around-help them up or under the horizon? The sunset revealed small compact sundogs crouching low on the horizon; mere suggestions of sundogs- the worn heads of old sundogs too tired and cold to give a full display.  The sun itself tried to do better, aiming to produce a ray, (there is a specific name for this phenomenom, but I can't recall it now), a salmon colored beam that rises vertically about the point where the sun slips away for the night. A sort of ethereal headstone- a combination of atmospheric and climatological forces in combination that produce a rising beacon marking the last known location of our sun.  What an act of faith we are to maintain through the night, especially now in winter when the nights are long and cold and the only light comes from a rough pockmarked stone a quarter million miles away.

But Karen and I watched that stone rise as we gathered snowshoes and mukluks and anoraks so we could go out and observe the blue moon firsthand- naked- well, with nothing  between us but space. We futzed in the living room, adjusting our bindings in comfort because I had recently varnished the snowshoes and removed the bindings in the process.  We were trying to avoid major adjustments outside in the cold snow with only moonlight as our aid. In these efforts we were only partially successful. Once suited up and outside we still had to make some minor adjustments.  The cold did not help but the small headlamp I smuggled along, was helpful. My hands stung with cold, a side effect of my chemo, when I had my mittens off.  Numbness came quickly, reducing my ability to work the straps and buckles even though my hands weren't really all that cold.  The tingling and numbness are just that quick and intense.

Same for my face- my cheeks and nose. I wore a neckgaiter to minimize the tingling below my cheekbones but my nose kept reacting by stinging.  When I touched my nose with a now warm bare hand, my nose wasn't cold, it was just reacting to the cold.  I couldn't cover it without fogging my glasses and my goggles were in the jeep in the garage and they have amber tinted lens anyway. So I just kept checking my face for numbness as I followed Karen's footprints through the moonlight.

At a distance, if she was not moving, Karen was nearly invisible in her white canvas anorak. Only as I got closer could I make out the black hood of the woolen anoraks we wear underneath. Kind of a like a reverse of the black tail spot on the ermine. Maybe more like the black rimmed ears or amber eyes of the snowshoe hare: once you get a bit of a clue the rest of the animal becomes whole before your eyes-drawn out of invisibility by the one clue. So it was with Karen.

We started in the yard after talking about driving somewhere 'wilder' to observe the moonrise but gave up the notion as too much effort. We knew if we waited till after we ate our traditional New Year's Eve seafood boil, we would not go out at all so our choice came down to staying at home. The choice worked perfectly. First time out on snowshoes for the season and at night to boot with bindings that still needed attention. Better home than out in the woods. There will be other moonlight nights ahead.

We wandered out back, more or less, to the far property corner and trespassed onto our neighbors land, through the jackpines, through the norways and small openings in his plantation. We came across Narda's ski tracks and followed her route. We did not have a plan in mind other than Karen's wish to have a loop to snowshoe and Narda's trail provided that. Narda maintains her ski loop for just the same purpose, a place to go when time and desire come together, outside, on the snow.

After I caught up to Karen she put me in the lead, breaking trail. The snow is over a foot deep-not bad for depth but deep enough to make one's heart work and mine hasn't been worked hard enough lately. The cold and my work schedule have cut my Nordic walking down quite a bit. So we stopped, we paused, several times in our brief sojourn.

"I am glad we are doing this" I told Karen. "This is who we are- this is where we are supposed to be."

"I am glad you are here at the end of this year, and at the beginning of the New Year."

"Yes, I'm glad too."

And we were glad. We were out in our natural element. WE WERE US- snowshoes and mukluks, wool, leather and canvas, nothing but space between us and the moon. "THIS IS WHO WE ARE." And that is the truth. At one stop I turned to face the moon. Lifting my arms I offered a prayer of thanks to the Creator- asked for blessings on family and friends and selfishly asked for an easier time in this new year. We could use some good things in our recovery. We are thankful for the blessings and friends and support we have received. We would just like to move in a positive direction away from the portage we are on now. I didn't feel that was too much to ask. When we finally came back to our yard I circled our prayer tipi four times-pausing to ring the wind chime, to call one's attention to the present moment.

Then we went inside, bringing with us the perfection we experienced under the blue moon-bringing in with us our reclaimed selves, the sole and true inhabitants of Whiskey Jack Flats.

Happy New Year to all of our friends and family.
Peace and love,
Mike