The moon does not fight.

The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.
Deng Ming-DaoEveryday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony

“The moon does not fight.”

Condemn and correct? Or observe and allow? Call out and judge? Or model and shine?

The process is slow, sometimes blistering as I squirm in place, swallowing the dismay: “But, but… you’re wrong!”

“It attacks no one.”

But, if I let the words loose, if I point the finger, I’m no longer observing and allowing. I’m no longer a model for the change I crave.

Some of you reading will judge me, you might even call me out with a “But you MUST call them out!”

Defensive blisters may form on my tongue, protective tears might well, but I see you too. Without judgment.

“It does not try to crush others.”

“But you must…!”

“Must I?”

I need the sun, but the moon heals me.

I’m grateful for those who turn over the tables in the temple, who stand up in public places against aggressors and institutions. While your light sets the dirty pages aflame, there is also a place for the quiet ones who reflect that light, who softly reach out to stand up as an ally, who work diligently in a corner to gently influence those who aren’t.

Both paths have their challenges. The sun must work tirelessly, and even as you rest, set for a few hours, your work is never done. The moon waxes and wanes. Sometimes I turn away, go within, to examine an aggression or injustice. “Is that also in me? How do I fix that in me?”

“It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences.”

This is hard to write about because my words —the place I’m claiming for myself— might be dismissed as virtue signaling. So, I’ll be clear. I’m not virtuous. I screw up this moon journey on a regular basis, perhaps every day. Walking the tight rope between controlling the things around me and allowing them is treacherous, and I’ve lost my footing, spun off the tight rope many times.

This is not an apology. I feel called to write about this because I’m not the only one whose eyes sting when my quiet path is misunderstood as complicity, when I’m accused of not showing up properly because I’m not turning over the tables in the temple.

“What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore?”

Sometimes the protest looks like the tide, hard to notice. Not a pointing finger and a sign waving above the angry crowd, but the hushed hand that reaches out to help the fallen.

Sometimes the call to justice looks like me. Not a take down across the Thanksgiving table, but the question that moves the aggressor to look within and question himself.

“The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.”

Sometimes change is a gentle shift, not violent slip of tectonic plates.

I’m imperfect at my mission, but I will stand faithfully as a model. I intend see all of you, really see you, and look for that part of you within me. I will reach within for the light we all need.

The moon does not fight, it does not attack, but it moves oceans. Quietly. I love the moon, I chase her through the fields. The moon is my model, my authenticity. I will quietly keep this course.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2020.

Full Moon Goals

I should leave her alone.
I run out,
all go and gullible,
excited to capture that perfect shot.
I never do.
I should stop wasting her time,
requiring the poses.
The peak through the clouds.
The burst of light through haze.
She rises bright and full.
Snap snap snap.
Merely mediocre.
I didn’t take the lessons.
I didn’t read the manual.
Snap snap snap.
Why can’t I . . . ?
If only I could capture that mist over the water.
Snap snap snap.
And the bursts of firefly in the dark field.
Moon shadows ripple on the water.
Snap snap snap.

Enough.full moon goals

I can’t do her justice.
I trudge back through the field,
turning to see her
again and again.
Snap.
Through the dark fields
where the mist captures her light
and fireflies dance in the darkness.
Snap snap snap.
Dark sparkless frames.
I should stop wasting her time.
I shouldn’t come out here snap snap snap.
I should leave her be.
Bright. Full. Rising.
Graceful journey that eludes my lens.
I should stop wasting her time,
I mumble, as I rest my lens,
and drift into slumber,
my heart —bright, full, rising—
dreaming of chasing the perfect shot
of her next full journey.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2019

The Longest Night

Tonight is the longest night of the year and the moon is just about full, almost super.

Professional photographers have been known to share and exchange stories of the extreme efforts they went through in order to get the shot. Awkward positions, uncomfortable weather or surroundings, painstakingly long waits. I’m not a professional photographer. In fact, I’m still a kindergartener photographer and will probably only graduate to 1st grade before I die. Still, I have some images to share, not because they’re great and not even because of the “extreme” measures I went through to take the shot(s). But to breathe out a little.Longest night

What’s my story on the longest night?

Barbed wire, ant beds, eye-high grasses, briar patches, highways, and muddy ditches. There was daylight when I climbed over the barbed wire fence, but I circled back and crossed the ditch towards home in darkness. I could have fallen face-first navigating those briar patches. Or slipped on the steep ditch into the mud. Or worse, tripped into the highway just as a giant diesel truck came barreling down the hill. I won’t take any photos of my ankles that bravely stripped through the briars, but suffice it to say, I survived my obstacles and came out on the other side with a couple of photos of the cold moon of the longest night.

I haven’t shared any thoughts on my blog lately, hence the need to exhale a bit. I process what I’m thinking and feeling through writing, but the emotional barometer has been high, so I’ve let the pen rest and allowed my thoughts to steep.

I will endure whatever awkward position, discomfort, or stay I must to wrap my head and words around the thoughts and emotions that have tied me up. But tonight, there are moon shadows and meteor showers. It’s cold out and hard to dance in the moonlight for long or sit and stare at the stars more than ten or fifteen minutes, but the chill on my cheeks feels fine.

My moon shadow casts long and clean, and I look forward to the arc of the sun climbing higher and longer through the days. I look forward to the light.Longest night

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2018