lunar eclipse

The top photograph is a photo I took of the lunar eclipse outside of our friend, Joey's, home. The bottom photograph is a photo of the moon I took while eating outside at Feast with Jami last June. Both images call into question the aspect of seeing and knowing. We all know what the moon should look like. Or we aver that we do, but on reflection we are unfamiliar with it: its topography, its libration, its wanderings.
The moon travels with us at night. Ancient personifications have the moon as a woman and as the influence of the sign of Cancer.
Today we recognize that the moon is Earth's singular satellite (that we don't have none, or two, or 8, or 12 - what a confused mythology they must have on Mars or Saturn or Jupiter) and that its reflection of sunlight at night is a product of cosmological pin ball.
So we might believe that we could reduce all the cosmos to materialistic statements. These statements though cleansing on one level, fail to explain how we have come to create the cosmological narrative we have over the centuries; these statements also fail to fire the imagination.
Can it be that our brief consciousness and creative existence on this planet is happenstance? I don't think so. I do wonder at the expansiveness of the universe, the interminable distances that defy our lifespans and the unbelievable smallness of infinity that crushes our comprehension as to how much energy can be stuffed into such a small space. I wonder that humanity is not through creating mythology.
But to what end? Christ's story of a feast, of abundance and reveling, of inclusion, seems to me what must be in store.