March 13, 2006 at 2:41 PMEvery month, like clockwork, I find myself up all night, as if by the workings of a gravitational pull. The hours whisk along and I enter a quiet pensive trance. Then, in the same way that one would crave a hot drink or a bit of chocolate, I get the familiar urge to listen to my favorite late night muse: Debussy's Suite Bergamasque.
Could it be? Is it that time? I peek out the window and view the bright blue glitter, the snow glowing as though electrified. Hello once again, my waxing friend, my late-night companion. Claire de Lune is playing now.
Some people howl at the full moon. The midnight brilliance stirs the blood to a frenzy, and for a phase, carnal drive overwhelms sanity. Wild animals form packs and thrash the woods for vulnerably exposed prey. Will wolves not rest until they draw blood?
I, too, am driven from sleep, but not for blood; beauty rises, ever beckoning and taunting, and ever out of reach. The way the moon seeps right into my very yard, settling right there on those branches and even intruding my bedroom through the curtains... Sometimes, it seems like if the timing is right, I might just find a piece of that for myself, if I can catch its scent and follow its tracks through the trees, quickly, before the moment passes.
My teeth ache. My fingers itch. I can’t rest. I want the moon, and I can’t stop reaching.
Hope you enjoy your moon over Germany, Sydney. Meanwhile, if you're still suffering from blockage, try the lemon-squeezing-fire remedy. Either that, or take Jim's advice and howl.
Go and howl anyway. It's fun.
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Emily Grossman is from Soldotna, Alaska. Biography
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