Conversations with the Moon

by Wendy Reed


This evening I had a more-than-meaningful conversation(s) both by email and by phone with a dear soul. We spoke of life and death and things in-between. We eventually talked about my mother–who was at peace when she died and before.

After our conversations I went out on my deck and looked at the most beautiful moon I’ve seen in a long time (we don’t often get good views of the moon because of frequent cloud cover). I remembered that when my mom was sick I would frequently go to Mt. Rainier, camping and sit near water streams and watch the moon. I was on the west coast and she was, as they say, "back East". But we had a pact of sorts of looking at the moon which connected us.

When I looked at this beautiful moon tonight I thought I was looking at my mother. But it immediately became clear that I was looking at all of you. I have this "thing" about the moon I guess. I figure some people look at it, and others are looking at it, and therefore we are connected to each other. You were ALL with me tonight and I was with ALL of you.

Ok, this sounds "woo-woo-ish" but, that’s the way it was. Henceforth, when I see the moon, I know I’ll be with you all and you will be right here with me.

Another odd thing (if you think the above is "odd") is that this particular moon tonight has a face. I stood out there watching it for a longggg time because my practical mind told me I was being ridiculous. I watched and watched and there was a face. The eyes mostly looked somber. But the eyebrows and mouth often changed–to looks of joy, looks of shock, looks of concern, looks of laughter, and looks of sadness. Also looks of just a plain face without much expression.

I know this all sounds "corny" (ok–now you know my age) – but it was a pretty profound experience. And I wanted to thank every one of you for coming here tonight (even if you don’t think you did, smile) to be with me. I was having a hard time. When I go to bed I will think of you, but then I’m going to have a conversation with my mother–mostly me, listening to her. But if one of your "voices" comes into my head, I will listen as well.

Thank you, and thanks to the good soul who helped me to be open enough to be able to really see the moon (we didn’t talk about anyone here…it’s just that when I saw the moon, you all were there…it was pretty amazing and I have no idea how that happened, and will not try to analyze it).

May your day have a bit of contentment at some points, as I have had this evening, with your help.

Ok, maybe I’m nuts. But this happens only rarely with people I care about deeply. I don’t think I’m nuts. Lumpy maybe but not nuts.

Truthfully and lovingly yours,