Listening to Jack Garrett’s cover of the Waterboys’ “The Whole of the Moon” this morning. Was struck by this thought. 10 years ago I started my personal blog space as a way of grappling with the reality of turning 40, which for me had brought on a deeply felt existential crisis regarding this world and my place in it. The blog was my attempt to get that struggle out of my head and on to the page where it could percolate and breathe on the outside rather than consuming me from the inside. It’s a practice I still need to utilize to this day
When I turned 45 I changed the name of my blog space to “The Stories of my Life.” This was an attempt to shift my focus away from the anxieties of being in my 40s towards the ongoing practice of living towards my 50s, with this recognition in tow- the story of my life is shaped by the stories of my life. Who I am is a reflection of that participation, and it is that participation that sets me within the larger narrative of this greater existence that embodies us all.
This included the role of the arts. It also includes the stories of relationships and encounters and experiences. All of these things are what shape a life far beyond the tightly guarded parameters of the “I” which grounds so much of the ideology I find in the modern western mythos. To this end, this song reminded me of the ways in which so much that awakens a life is our relationship to those whom inspire us to see the whole. Whom help us to see what we are blinded to in the circumstances of the present moment. These relationships arrive in all sorts of ways. For me, these are most often the persons whom seem to fill in the gaps of my own lacking.
I am someone who has always been drawn to this tension filled space beteeen cynicism and wonder, and I often find greatest inspiration from those whom seem to have this inate ability to embody that tension in a way that is able (and brave enough) to carry that forward in the form of true belief. Subsequently, this tends to be those voices whom seem to have this inate awareness of and access to what I would call the spiritual dimension of this world that I continually need and long for in my sense of wonder but protect against with my cynicism. Over the years I have found that my cynicism only makes sense in a world where true wonder actually exists, and for me that is sustained in the stories that define me, the stories that represent those whom seem to be able to open up those liminal spaces where the whole moon can be seen and felt and understood in the tensions that force me to wrestle with it. Without this i find life ceases to make sense.
It is the grace that these stories offer me which push me to hold on to wonder as I approach my 50th year. Heres the lyrics to the song:
The Whole Of The Moon”
I pictured a rainbow
You held it in your hands
I had flashes
But you saw the plan
I wandered out in the world for years
While you just stayed in your room
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moon
You were there at the turnstiles
With the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars
And you know how it feels
To reach too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
I was grounded
While you filled the skies
I was dumbfounded by truths
You cut through lies
I saw the rain-dirty valley
You saw Brigadoon
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
I spoke about wings
You just flew
I wondered, I guessed and I tried
You just knew
I sighed
But you swooned
I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moon
With a torch in your pocket
And the wind at your heels
You climbed on the ladder
And you know how it feels
To get too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
The whole of the moon
Unicorns and cannonballs
Palaces and piers
Trumpets, towers, and tenements
Wide oceans full of tears
Flags, rags, ferry boats
Scimitars and scarves
Every precious dream and vision
Underneath the stars
Yes, you climbed on the ladder
With the wind in your sails
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
The Stories of my Life 