I am not sure I ever saw one, until this morning. I have seen loads of sunsets, sunrises and also moonrises. But I am not sure I have ever seen a moonset, most especially over water.
I went to bed late (for me) last night. I didn’t fall asleep until after 10 pm (which is really only 7 pm in my residential time zone). But I was tired. Driving is lovely, but tiring. I found this amazing place right on the water’s edge in Maine. Walked over to a restaurant also on the water for dinner and then curled up in bed last night and allowed the events of the day to drift me off to sleep.
I always open a window wherever I am, even in the dead of winter. I need the fresh air. I also leave the curtains open so I can view any vistas and the sun can wake me in the morning. Ok, sometimes I keep them closed so I can sleep in. Because if there is light, I am up. Again, I really do think I am part chicken...the light affects me drastically - light equals waking and movement and dark makes me roost and still. I don’t know why and I can’t change it, it is just a hard wiring I have to live with.
So I went to bed last night with the window open and the curtains pinned back. I woke up about 2 am and thought, “fuck no!” And went back to sleep but it wasn’t a restful sleep, I tossed and turned and was cold (because I left the window open and I am in Maine in October - I know, sometimes I make no sense at all).
I woke up and looked at the window and had thoughts of closing it and that is when I saw the moon casting its light across the water. It was large and round and brilliant. More sun like in all its moonness. There it was beaming light from across the water, shining directly in on my sleepy face.
Of course, I had to get up and snap a photo. And of course, then I was awake. It was 3:54 am. Which makes no sense in anytime zone while on vacation. But I was up and so I made my coffee and assumed the position (laptop on my lap, reposed in bed for writing).
I put on some pajamas, and began to write, the moon being visible over the top of my screen as I tapped out the daily contents of my head. And it was there outside that open window I watched the moonset over the horizon across the water. I watched the moonlight fade to darkness. I watched the light grow longer as the moon sank lower on the horizon...then I watched it shrink as a setting sun. It was a moment. Time stood a little stiller and I was just here, with the moon and my thoughts and the water.
So now I sit in total blackness, thinking all the thoughts and the ideas and exhausting myself all over again. I am marveled to see that my life is a series of me wearing me out. Of going and coming and going again. Of rising and retiring, much like that moon. Hoping beyond all hopes that I too share some of my light as I take my leave of the day.
It feels somewhat odd to be awake and starting my day having just witnessed the setting moon. To now be returned to total blackness even though I know the day is dawning as I type. Seems I am always captured somewhere on this ever continuing spectrum of night and day, light and dark. My mood seeming to so very often be comforted by the solitude of dimness even while it is being invaded by the light.
So on the coast of Maine, in a tiny cabin on the water’s edge, I watched the moonset for the very first time, being almost sun like in all its mooniness, grateful for the opportunity to let life surprise me once more with its splendor, its grandiosity and its absolute perfect balance between day and night, light and dark, breaking and setting.
Again...still.
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