And the moon will hide its face...

Last night we watched the lunar eclipse, and it was pretty cool. Every time I see a celestial event, it reminds me of the macrocosm, the big picture. It makes me think how, Bogey said, that all our problems “don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” (Casablanca, 1942).

Sometimes it’s important to step back, and look at what’s important. For me, it all comes down to people, and passion, and love. You love the people who are important to you. You love your passion, be it what you do, or what you feel about what you do. And if you’re lucky enough to find all three-people, love and passion—within the span of a lifetime, you can count yourself among the luckiest sum’bitches on this little satellite. But you only count yourself, if you realize it. Like so many things in life, you can see what you have only two ways; either the fortunate way, through periodic, and careful introspection, or, less fortunately, just after you lose it.

Sometimes it’s important to shift perspectives from the intense minutia that surrounds our everyday lives and seems so important. But in a hundred years, who will cares if that deadline is missed, or that homework assignment is late, or that dinner was a little overcooked? How then, can we consider any of that important? And if that’s not, then what could be?

From space, from the rose-colored face of the moon, I imagined the view as a hundred points of light freckled over the shadowy face of the Earth. Each light represented a building, but in my imagination each light represents a person. In cities seen from space, (again, in my imagination) the cities and the streets and raods and highways that make them up appear as little spider-webs of moving light, vibrating and throbbing with intensity. The lighted lines connect the smaller lights, and from that far off vantage of the darkening moon, we can see how we are all connected. Every one of us is apart of another, the separation illusory. We’re all stuck on this tiny blue marble floating amidst other tiny dead marbles, and we’re all on it together.

That’s what I thought about as the shadow of the Earth caressed the face of the moon, making it blush at the intimacy. It felt somehow like a holiday, like something that ought to be celebrated. Then again, maybe that's the point of every day, and we just need the excuse to remember that.