Perigee -- Up Close and Personal

It's been a full moon weekend. Friday night it was official. The moon was big, full, and closer than it's been for fifteen years. My friend Agneta conducts new moon and full moon ceremonies, and promptly at 5:15 there were six of us gathered on the beach near our house. It was still daylight, but Agneta had lit a fire and was explaining to us that the the previous two weeks (kicked off with a proper new moon ceremony) had been a time for defining our intentions and nourishing them with prayer, and that the full moon was a time for rejoicing and grateful acknowledgement of the good already received and that which was expected to mature during the waning moon.

It was a fairly simple ceremony. Everyone had brought something to make noise with -- a drum, rattle, or a piece of wood and a stick -- and there was something cathartic about just making noise when that big orange disk edged up from the horizon. The firmament is so very close here, its depth reflected in the vast ocean as well as stretched across the sky. There's something inside me that yearns to acknowledge its presence, glory in its magnificence, and it's really a treat to do it with unbridled enthusiasm in the company of good friends. Our little crowd grew with the arrival of Lucy and her family, so there were twelve of us that circled the fire and took turns saying what we were grateful for.

Then someone said, "Let's sing something!" And the only song that we Americans, Canadians and Brits could agree on that we all knew was the Coca-Cola advertisement from the 1970's! "I'd like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony...." Agggh! What hath globalization wrought??!!

So next time maybe we should try this alternative: "When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we see..."