Sometimes, the moon looks like a giant light in a dark sky. Other times, I swear, it’s a round keyhole into a brighter world.
Now, maybe that keyhole moon has everything to do with how my eyes are focused and nothing to do with my imagination. But, I don’t believe that. I have more luck writing on those keyhole nights.
What’s on the other side of sky’s dark door? I imagine an enormous room filled with light. Or maybe the room is filled with souls waiting for a body, our energy, our goodness. Is it heaven? Hope? Aliens? Who’s big enough to open and close a door that size? Is it open during the day and closed at night? What if the moon is really the light from a galaxy-sized microscope? And, if so, whose eyeball is peeking through at us?
I could go on to create a story based on any of those questions. Or, I could go backward.
One night, turn off the television. Go outside. Put a blanket on the grass. Lie on your back. Look up at the full moon and spend some time wondering.
Imagine you know nothing about the moon. Then begin to ask questions. Chances are, you’ll ask some of same ones your early ancestors did.
Who hung that big light up there? Why does it change shape? What happens to the pieces that fall off the big light when it changes shape? Shouldn’t we sleep inside a cave (or a house) to avoid being hit by the pieces of the big light when they fall? Who finds it and hangs it back up when it all comes down?
I don’t know. What do you think?
The ultimate brain food.