Conscious I haven’t written about my autistic journey for some time, I sat down to write about my most recent misadventure involving my special interest in music, and how I may or may not have gotten myself into a little bit of a pickle around concert tickets out of fear I would miss out, spending money that I don’t have, and the reactions from those around me who aren’t autistic.
But I really just feel like writing about the moon.
One of my most favorite activities is to sit outside under a clear sky and observe the moon and a plethora of stars above us.
No photo can ever do it justice.
Before I moved away, I used to do that almost nightly in my parents’ backyard no matter the season though partial to the crisp Autumn months and spring evenings lit by lightning bugs.
My favorite was going to an isolated part of the beach and just sitting and observing; bathing in the pearly glow of the moon.
The mellow breeze rolling off the onyx-colored waves kissed by moonlight lulled the sticky, humid summer air.
It was mega cathartic for me.
Nowadays, my back garden has replaced my parents’ backyard but the same activity occurs no matter the season.
I live less close to a beach now, though, and this is something I deeply miss.
There’s something magical, ethereal about the moon and its energy that resonates with me.
I sometimes wish I could sit on the moon and just observe what it has, does and will observe;
all of the cyclical shifts,
it has seen from Earth and mankind.
There are a lot of scary things happening around us everywhere and it’s easy to get weighed down by it all.
But, regardless of who we are, what we’re doing, where we’re doing and why we all look at the same moon at night.
7.7 billion people observing a 4.53 billion-year-old moon observing back.
Infinite in feeling, finite in observation.
I am in love.
Fun fact: my childhood nickname was moonbeam. 🙂