Last night as I was closing the door to the chicken coop I glanced to my left and saw a hazy, crescent yellow moon hanging above the woods. Through the dusty barn window, across the expanse of uncut field, it looked as timeless as it is, that moon. And I felt equally timeless, connected to others who’ve glanced through barn windows and been captivated, briefly, by the moon.
That was a life-saving feeling once for me. Never forget stepping away from the violent bombast inside the house one winter night. This was in suburban Philadelphia, so nothing bucolic about it. I lay in a snow bank we had built for an igloo (unfinished … never finished) and looked up at the sky. And for those moments I felt quiet and connected to a universe that was far more benevolent than anything happening inside my home. Alone and okay. That was a really good feeling.