Excerpts


Harvest Moon

Mark Murphy

We walked in the gathering darkness to the hilltop with the ideal vantage point for watching. There was an expectant stillness in the sweet summer air with only the sound of the crickets stirring the night. We sat in the grass and we waited for the harvest moon. A golden hue began slowly to creep across the east horizon, spreading moment by moment closer to a sphere of light that slipped silently into the sky, hanging there, suspended by invisible threads. The moonbeams melted across the landscape, turning darkness to light and creating the shadows writers have sought to describe for centuries. Huge and magical and breathtaking, the full moon of an August night.

Many times we look to nature to explain life, not for answers but for the comfort of knowing that we are as nature
is. We are able to compare the flow of our life with the flow of nature. The moon is always with us. We take it for granted. We watch it move through phases, from a tiny sliver to full gallantry. It is constantly changing. So it is for us as well. Generally, the changes in life are as incrementally small as the daily changes in the moon, but they lead us to a new fullness over and over again. Change, and fullness, is not often a singular event, even though we might think it is at the time. There are days when I feel no more significant than the first sliver of the moon. There are times when I am chasing the moonbeams without ever being able to touch them, and times when they slip over me as easily as breathing. I occasionally hide in the deepening shadows, watching the light of the moon from a distance, and then one day I find I am luminescent with the fullness of a harvest moon. An ever-changing perspective, often unnoticed in the moment. The most significant changes in our lives come quietly across our landscape and shape who we are through many phases of darkness and light.


Walk to the highest vantage point and let the moonbeams find you, and remind you, that every day is a step towards a new fullness.