The Moon

Goddesses claim to rule her, scientists worship her, and the poets aim to arrest her for magic. Lassos have been thrown to bring her closer and spells written to bring us more near. An obsession aided by a gravitational pull that makes us, hers and her, ours. So perhaps, we can try and capture her together.

An unearthly companion. A scathing mother. A cosmic dance partner to keep us spinning. A celestial clock to tell us when. An unrelenting darkness cast to us in a silver slip. The dusty, milky legs of the moon have been running against time for billions of years. Birthed from destruction and chaos, she offers serenity and inspiration. Creatures of Earth continually bend their necks to search for her, to follow her – into refuge and into madness.

As ancient as one comes, the monthly metamorphosis of the Moon was initially recorded by people of the Stone Age. Their observations aided in predictions of days passed and seasons to come. This era occurred over 2.5 millions years ago; a childlike civilization compared to the accustomed age of the great Selene herself. Known by many handles across the waging war of time, the moon has guided and directed Earth for longer than 4 billion years. A mere fortune that the beginning of our species grew brains intelligent enough to observe her and better yet, seek to make sense of her.

With Galileo, this sparked an epiphanic big bang of comprehension concerning astronomy and the dark blanket of the galaxy that weighs us down to Earth. In fact, it could be argued that the moon’s mysticism inspired his quick hands to build the first telescope able to see her. This, bringing humanity scientifically closer to her than we had ever been before. His discoveries challenged our own misconceptions of the spheric, nearly unblemished perfection of the moon. Suddenly, the heavenly essence she once proposed was replaced with craters, pits, and imperfections – like Earth. Like us.

Georges Méliès takes this revelation to heart in his satirical production of Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902. The mother of all science fiction films, this short feature follows six astromagicians (pointy hats and cosmic gowns to boot) on a magnificent journey to the moon. Seemingly as soon as the first toe of invasion lands on solid astroturf, comedic violence ensues. Explosions, daunting celestial dreams, and a bit of frostbite lead these fine explorers into a dark crater on the planet. A deep cavern home to abundantly growing, quite adaptive mushrooms and alien beings known as Selenites. So naturally, as great men of discovery and science, they attempt to kill them all out of fear.

Méliès symbolism of the seizing space rocket as it pummels into the man in the moon, as he grimaces in his freshly irritated state of being, is an image that has transcended time. And minds. A poignant pulling back of the curtains on man’s ultimate betrayal and heinous habit of desecrating nature. And himself.

Pareidolia is a tendency to see familiarity, or faces in inanimate objects. Spanning culture, the lunar surface compels humans to question what they truly see. Certain seas; Serenity, Rain, Clouds, Islands, and Vapors, are said to resemble markings of human physiognomy. Travel east from Europe, or quite far south, and further back into ancient times – you come to find that civilizations that existed in disconnect from one another, were actually experiencing near identical perceptions. The Moon Rabbit sneaks into the psyches of varying societies, but the most enticingly shared myth is that of Chinese and Mesoamerica traditions. A companion of the moon goddess, the ethereal hare is revealed to be pounding the elixir of life with his mortar and pestle. But for whom does he endure this task? And why?

Mythically, our relationship with this un/earthly companion surpasses the age of telescopes, and even distance itself. Ancient Greece reveals to us a time of the moon personified in a goddess who takes a form quite like the humans. They claimed she had a “radiance that waxed and waned with the different phases of the moon;” her chariot and silver horses pulling her across the sky wherever she pleased. But Selene left the skies, ignoring her father’s wishes and fell madly in love. She birthed children, sought out compassion and justice, and inspired revolutions of introspection. Much to which we are also capable of.

In association with Selene, the Greek goddess Artemis emerges from the phthalo green wood, her bow and arrow ready. Known as the huntress, she delights in the chase; an admiral foe to any and a savior to more. A deity of the moon with no relation to Selene and less a personification, but rather a contrasting concoction of her twin brother Apollo, the sun god. Appears only formulaic that she would later follow her brother into space, kopis in hand.

NASA’s latest moon exploration called Artemis I resembles the dawning of a new age, where women and people of color’s physiology will be taken into account when traveling to space. Apologies, only breasts and uteri were manufactured into the scientifically sound manikins, not skin color. It’s a known fact that caucasian women are more sensitive to radiation, so it is necessary to test whether we will have the ability to reproduce on the moon, or possibly Mars. With Selene beneath our space boots and Artemis in our hearts, fertility is on our side and we shall prosper.

Perhaps, a lack of subjugation is what causes a divide between moon mission and moon mysticism. And eclipses are the epitome of mysticism…and liberation. Coming off the heels of April’s totality event, the overwhelming sensation of celestial energy is a lingering, tingling tickle in the tips of our fingers. Being enveloped in the shadow of nature leaves an imprint on the soul; your heart a hummingbird and your spirit just as free. The Book of Revelations refers to eclipses in the context of omens, where upon their arrival, nature itself would unravel. An animal’s behavior during such comings may speak some truth to these holy notions.

Mene, another title blessed to her and the greek word for Moon, can quickly become attached to mensis, meaning month in latin. These two terms provide us the foundation of the word menstruation. The ancient Greeks believed that women bore an utmost special connection to Selene. As their cycles became linked, she offered them fertility and the bellies of the most pregnant women were shown off with pride; an echo of the motherly goddess who gifted them. In his day, physician Richard Mead took Issac Newton’s theories on the moon and proposed that the gravitational pull of the moon could affect the fluids in our bodies, and therefore our menstrual cycles.

A celestial being eighty times smaller than the planet we call our home, bears the strength to affect everything around us. We see this plainly in the oceans that dominate our space because water is so much less dense than land…or people. The sway of our tides begs the seemingly everlasting question that – if we too consist of water, does the moon not sway us too? What other mechanisms of the moon might influence us? A guided light in unrelenting darkness? The phasing hints to which rituals begin?

The sun and moon dance; an indigenous practice birthed in varying spectrums, from countless Native American tribes, is typically a three day ceremonial dance with the sun and full moon. This distinction seems to deviate with culture, yet continues growing like a vine, transcending off in all kinds of directions. Beneath her kind luminosity, they whirl in the midnight breeze, sing and share sacred teachings in her name, reuniting their people with the earth and her essence. In Hindu, this day is called “Purnima,” laced with fasting, praying, and reflection, followed by a cool dip in the river and a light meal at dusk. The Pagans partake in the mixture; their moon rituals liken to witchcraft, where they worship by singing and dancing in sacred circles. Sometimes dressed by only the crisp slips of night’s shade, they bathe their jumping bodies in the moonlight. They burn sage and even belongings; an attempt to release that which no longer serves them, physically and emotionally.

Luna, an appellation given by the ancient Romans to honor the moon, birthed a most compelling word: Lunacy or in its timeworn verb form, lunatic. Aristotle believed that, “the brain’s high water content made it susceptible to the phases of the moon.” He speaks of us all having tides of the mind which at the peak of a full moon, can bring forth violence, seizures, and mental illness. An obsession created and spun for millennia; a plethora of research to deem true, nor false, but inconclusive…Author Niall McCrae of Moon and Madness states, “We can be confident that the Moon does not have a noticeable impact on most people’s lives most of the time, but we cannot rule out the possibility of its role among various environmental factors that might affect our sleep, moods and vitality.”

The concept of the moon in medicine stretches its silvery fingers far into ancient history. Folklore, the Greeks and Romans, and even some physicians today rely on her insights to heal our communities. Around the 16th century, tracking the moon was essential to proper patient care. Lousie Devoy, curator of Royal Observatory Greenwich, explains, “The waxing phases of the Moon were thought to enhance the benefits of bloodletting;” a practice that would be later adopted to treat lunatics by the 18th century. Who knew Hippocrates had such a kink for self-mutilation underneath all those oaths?

Sylvia Plath, who suffered from the atrocity of sunsets that is mental illness – rediscovers her mother and herself beneath the veil of the silver moon. In “The Moon and the Yew Tree,” Plath describes her to be as white as knuckles, hard not sweet, an effigy to loom over her lacking tenderness. “It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet,” she whispers. In a personal favorite of mine, “Elm,” I believe she sees the moon in her own reflection…

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.
The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.
I let her go. I let her go…

Pink Floyd’s hypnotic, space rock melodies, cultivate Dark Side of the Moon as a sounding board for mystique, caliginous melancholy. An ode to time, madness, and mortality, their lyrics delve deep into the cavernous symbolism of the moon and what it is to be human. Moon rabbits, eclipses, and the celestial unknown are all brought into the fold of this stellar masterpiece; a chronicled divulgence of what sleeps in the starless corners of ourselves, isolated and unkempt. The eccentric inner workings of frontman Syd Barrett heavily influenced this direction, or he was heavily influenced to stumble upon this path himself; a trail of moon seeds left to lead his way. The last number of the album titled “Eclipse”, slithers like a slip into the ether on the existential note, “There is no dark side in the moon, really. Matter of fact, it’s all dark.”

Where intuition lies, deception lives nearby. Emotion: fear, imagination: illusion, dreams: fantasy, instinct: delusion. The moon can be a harbinger of many things with the essential inclusion of what is dark and dooming. In tarot, she often appears to readers who have fallen off their paths, who have begun to wander aimlessly in moonless night. These querents grapple with doubt, indecision, and a lack of focus. The moon offers them a choice: land or water, dog or wolf? As we beg for her guidance, her inspiration, her solace, her light – she begs us to look within ourselves for what has already been given; what we are made of. And if we choose to disregard her wisdom and remain in murky waters, madness will undoubtedly come for us.

As an individual that suffers from Bipolar Disorder, being birthed from and into tempestuous nature, a kindredness formed between the moon and myself. Much like Plath, I have discovered that the intensity of my emotions feel unerring in the body of a barren moon; the skeleton of an old and dying elm, wrapping its sharp branches around me; in the booming being of thunder and rain as it rushes against my windows now…shocking and just. As the moon ails me, she heals me. In some kind of notion, the moon and my mania breathe into one another like old friends. In a place where audiences fall into slumber by the songs of crickets and our solitude is a sigh of relief that flies quickly past my lips. Here, in the thick of it, I know I am never alone.


. . .
A child leans against the baking, leather seats of her mother’s cadillac. The red filaments of her freckled arms wet with summer heat, as they reach through the humid air for magic in the sky. “Why does it follow us,” she asks her mama of the moon, “how does it always know where we are?” She takes a moment to kick the manic, blond curls off her shoulder; her chin high and steady. She stares at me deeply in the smudged rearview mirror, a wry smile behind her warm voice, “She grounds us. How small we are compared to her, huh? It brings us comfort to look up and see her, to know she’s there, always watching over us. You look up and know I’m here too, under the same moon.
And Storm…who’s to say that we’re not following her?”
…



Citations

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