I was treated to a "junket" at the Inn at Spanish Bay at Pebble Beach for three nights this last week. Our balcony overlooked the ocean. Each night a bagpiper played as he strolled the grounds.
I returned home to a gardenia blooming, clipped it and brought it in. It sits in a glass vase, offering beauty and scent.
Last night my husband and I went up Mount Tam so we could see the Blood Moon. The fog swirled in and out. Clouds blossomed and danced high in the sky. We would walk above the fog, then, come back down a bit as it moved out. There were others gathered, and there was equipment: phones, cameras and binoculars. Everyone was jovial, happy to be on the mountain whether we saw the moon or not, but then, we did. Even as I type this, a thrill moves through me. We watched for a long time, then, journeyed home, and there it was, still red, rising in the sky, and I watched the crescent white return, then more.
I sit with the event this morning, the thrill of gathering, watching, laughing, and discussing, and the awe to see such beauty rising in our sky. What must it have been like when people didn't know what was happening? Were we who know the science behind it any less moon-struck?
Last night we learned there is a special moon app for a smart phone, and many had it. Interpretations differed though. Some were sure the moon would rise south of Mt. Diablo and others north, but the moon rose beautifully right above it, and there was awe, uniting in awe.
The sunset last night was astonishing, too. I kept turning round and round, and then, I came home, and I turn round and round in my home, and this morning too. Coffee is here, and when we allow it, nature's time table is our own. I am more and more with "same-same". Whether we saw the moon or not, we had gathered. Whether I have coffee or not, I am alive, and in this moment my health rises with blood rich and full, moving through me with the richness of this balancing that gives us beauty and life, sun and moon.