• kristinaskovby

Hear now, mighty Moon!

By Misty Gaze -

It was a dark and cold night, I had put the alarm on for 04:30 am, the clouds were rushing over the sky, the moon was there, large, round, with a dim rim from the active cumulus clouds. Black and white was the sky as the moon, got darker and darker. It then suddenly at its fullest and most rusty-red, disappeared behind the buildings and I slumbered off, in a seated position in bed, thinking and dreaming of what would come next.

In the morning early, the planet still under the influence of the blood moon, the radio told me, that this was Blue Monday, the worst day of the year. And it became a slightly strange day, death followed ferociously. Yet there in the morning, with the heater turned all they way up, a snow storm began, and covered everything silently. As if the environment, the moon, the moonday and the Monday didn’t know what to do, so it chose to cover itself, being the worst day of the year, up in white snow, soft, cottonlike, surrounded by the grey morning light.

Off guard, weird, wired, and overtired, the grey day began in color metaphors as the blood moon, and blue Monday, and there I sat looking out across from my writing desk, at a still world, were sadness was to erupt violently.

A very strange time, for the unexpected.

A few of years ago, when there was another blood moon, I stood in the garden in the very early morning, it must have been the end of September, early October, it was very cold and very clear, all wrapped up in duvets. The moon was so rusty-red, round and vibrant, enormous, as it would fall out of the sky and roll down to meet and greet me. A round ball to play with and hold on to. A friend and an enemy in one. Fascinated I stood there for hours and felt at peace and vigorously alive.

The Danish poet Hulda Lütken in her poem Moon-Night from 1932 wrote – Alas, the heavy glow of your Eyes has caused all my Senses to burn. - Put the Moon of the Night onto my Thighs, and the Stars in my Hand’s Urn!

And that is what is haunting me also, as I write this, how much it affects emotionally, physically, and sensorially. Always present, even when not seen. Always on the lookout. Protecting, blaming, spiteful.

This time around, stillness is the word.

A couple of days after the blue Monday, I went to see a ‘Moon-exhibition’ at the Danish Museum Louisiana. Interesting after having all those feelings rushing through the body. One of my favorite artists Kiki Smith had this on at the exhibition:

Kiki Smith, MOON, Louisiana, January 2019

Once I was told by my mother, that someone had believed my grandfather to be related to Tycho Brahe, the danish astronomer, it’s probably not true, but looking at his drawings and observations of the moon at the exhibition too, I felt very related. And laughed at the whole idea of note books, describing thoughts, observations, ideas, sleeplessness and drawings of what seems most relevant right now, as a big bloody full moon.