Watching from Blue Lake, the moon rose in full eclipse. For reasons an astronomer could explain, it still had a faint reddish glow in the hazy evening light. Then, a bright light appeared on the moon’s southwestern edge. The light grew, as the shadow of the earth crept imperceptibly to the northeast, while the slow-motion drama was magnified by the fading of the day’s last light and the darkening sky. I watched and wondered for about an hour, as the round face of the moon became revealed.
         A strange depression had suddenly overwhelmed me earlier in the evening, a depression that lifted now along with the growing light. Undoubtedly, pure coincidence. But still I wonder if there’s a connection. I don’t know whether astrology truly has anything to teach us, but if the pull of the moon can suck the mighty oceans this way or that, it’s not hard to imagine that it might affect our minds and feelings as well.
         When the moon was perhaps a quarter revealed, it occured to me that the rounded shadow on its face was actually the curve of the earth. It was a much more gradual curve than the moon’s own curved edge--I extended the shadow’s curve and mentally traced in the sky the entire circle of the earth, and realized that it’s several times bigger than the moon. I suddenly realized what the “full earth” must look like from the moon, and was awestuck. Standing on the moon, the full earth must be huge. And the colors! Blue oceans, green forests, white and ever-changing clouds, brown deserts, snow-capped mountain ranges. An emerald, a sapphire, spinning free in the darkness and vastness of space. Now I know why some Apollo astronauts had spiritual experiences, why John Denver rushed to buy his ticket to be the first civilian to go to the moon. It’s a gorgeous sphere that we are privileged to walk upon. Let’s take good care of it.