The Moon is so very constant. And She offers a soft light for us to look at our world. Her gentleness can hide some of the biggest blemishes and give us courage to go to work — before we know how daunting the task before us. She silvers those with whom we are in conflict and those whom we love. If she can love us both, can’t we, in her soft light?

Sometimes when I have a quiet moment, I think back to my pagan roots or the Farmers’ Almanac, whichever is closer or seems more appropriate, and wonder why I don’t pay more attention to the waxing and waning of this beauty. True, she’s outside and I often try not to be. (I know, what a lousy vida localist! maybe this year will change me!) But if the Earth has a rhythm and nature responds to it, it would seem to make sense to work with it rather than against it.

Can I live deliberately enough to know when to rise and when to fall? When the Earth and the Moon have my back? I have no idea. Can you? Can we find the Peace that living rhythmically offers? Can we offer that Peace. Can we envision the Moon rising on war-torn, natural catastrophe-wrecked land and push Peace into her gaze… Can we?

Can we even just appreciate how beautiful the Moon is on our river and hills, simply being present to her Beauty? It’s an ancient call. Can we hear it? Can we want the Peace enough? If Herman could hear it… yah — I don’t think I want to finish that sentence. Moon Peace, my dearlings, Moon Peace to you. Let me count my blessings by the light of the Moon and see them silvered and so beautiful.