An August Full Moons
August 31, 2012 § 3 Comments
A year ends with the last day of summer. A year ends with the last full moon of a summer. Today, August 31, is the last day of summer and there’s a full moon, too. So the year ends. At least for me. These are my rules.
Like all years, this one has added a good portion of time to my life’s account: a portion of love, a portion of sorrow, a little bit of Sehnsucht, and a good portion of surprise and discovery. I don’t want to revisit all of it, but since this August was potent enough to produce two full moons, I’ll return to the other night, to the other full moon at the beginning of the month. I was lying on a beach chair at the Corinthian Gulf, looking at this moon. The night was overwhelming.
My mind has no country, but my body does. Every body has a country. It’s the place where the body feels most healthy, most vivid, most lovable. I was at that place: a hot summer night next to the Mediterranean sea. When the body is happy, when the body thinks, it thinks of sex. The moon has been there on other beautiful nights: My first real kiss was on a night like that, there has been good loving on nights like that, and even tears of longing after being apart. This full moon air in which my body swam in, consisted of light, sea, and all the sighs and moans we had left behind at that beach, all the salty skins, all the hot kisses, all the long embraces.
Cavafy invites the body to remember. He knows too well how little we allow it to think for itself as we grow older. How busy we keep it. How many rules we set. How many clothes we buy. How many sighs we hide. How many tears we deny.
Give it leisure, give it summer, give it night. Give it dance, give it music, give it touch. Give it full moon love.
Twice this August.
(Ella sings of a moon in June, but moon is moon.)