Old habits die hard, or, rather, they do not die at all.
I glanced up at the Moon last night, late. Actually, it was far more than a glance. I stopped, I stood, and I stared at the ever-changing, familiar sphere as it ushered in a new season.
It was not what I intended to do. I had hoped, or planned (even plotted) to ignore this Moon. A full month ago, truly (in consideration of the precise lunar cycle), I decided I spent too much time watching over, wishing on (even worshiping) this dominant celestial object. I wanted to believe that the Moon has no effect on me, that I, conceivably, was even frittering away this life allowing my mind follow its path, or my heart be swayed by its rhythm.
Always, evermore, a creature of the night, I cannot even fathom how many hours I have written under the power of the Moon. It is, as it is right now, my one consistent muse. I won’t even reckon the number of poems scratched out about this Moon of mine (there, see, I’ve even become possessive of something as common as spit and routinely on display for everybody else to enjoy (we all share the same sky).
I decided I’d been paying attention to the Moon when I should have been in bed or devoting my time to more worthy topics like income tax, the impending global economic impact of Brexit, reducing my carbon footprint, the dramatic healing traits of a Himalayan salt lamp. . . or what have you.
I tried to face facts. The Moon, I convinced myself, was as calculated as it was consistent, as bothersome as boring. I’ve gone about the past month keeping a more regular bedtime. I’ve been eating better, listening to my body more than my imagination, and trying to counter past behaviours that have not served me well.
Yet here I am, on the last night of a weary wicked winter, with clouds as certain as politics, staring skyward at something that both reflects back the light of something else and the feelings of anybody else. How original.
How can you not read something into it? Few symbols have captivated me as much as the Moon, and here we are on the cusp of Spring, wanting to be hopeful or just trying to get by.
Obviously this will be a month of contradictions. It may also be time to rearrange plans, accept familiarity, and not take yourself too seriously.
This is a chance to remember that not all habits are bad.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
“And if the dam breaks open many years to soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon”
– Roger Waters