The sky has always amazed me. It produces such wonder; moonrise, moonset, sunrise, sun set, stars, clouds, rain (although one could argue that the latter two are earthly), nothing, it seems, is quite like what the sky gives. One could also argue that earthly pleasures are far superior, such as love, taste, sex, cigarettes; all the things that many theists have called sins (except love, so long as it’s directed at Jesus. Ala. Buddha or whichever deity strikes your fancy). Granted, there are may things that one can’t enjoy just by looking at the sky – I’m sure you would enjoy sex more under the sky, be it night or day. But then again, I imagine that it would be difficult to not enjoy sex, so long as the situation was good and healthy. At any rate, it’s the sky that interests me. It seems so…big (a highly profound statement, I know). I find it difficult to imagine how life would be without the clouds, sun, moon, and stars, any of it. A picnic would surely lose its point if it were held in a living room of Park Avenue, instead of in Central Park. Most things I think are better outside, although there are exceptions to every rule, after all, they were made to be broken, right (rules, that is)? Despite the fact that most things are better outside, some things I enjoy doing inside, such as sleeping (although I do enjoy camping on occasion, as long as it’s with good company). Yes, the world wouldn’t be interesting without the heavens (not the pearly gates and all that jazz, I mean the heavens I’ve been talking about). I imagine life in prison wouldn’t be unbearable with a couple of windows and time outside, to remind you of freedom. Some people are fortunate enough to be able to make a living in the sky; astronauts, pilots; even skydivers (although I don’t know anyone who gets paid to skydive) have the freedom of the open air. The sky however, can be a harsh mistress. Wars have been fought under the cover of her cunning, cities have been destroyed by her temper, and people have died by the hands of their own to appease the rulers of the sky (sacrifice, of course). But yin and yang play their polar parts in everything, for the sky has been a source of inspiration since time was time, since the moon controlled the waters and since lovers have been enamored. Poets have written sonnets of the lovers faces’ in the moonlight, Dawn and her rose-tipped fingers have prevailed for centuries and songs of sunrise have been sung for as long as people could stay on key (and even when they can’t – Pop music ringin’ any bells?). Now, without doubt, I love both heavenly lanterns, but I think, being a woman, that the moon better appeals to me. Granted, the sun’s golden glow, when it throws a random halo on the things of daylight, is whit all sincerity breathtaking, but the moon’s glow is so serene, nothing like it is seen on earth (although I’ve heard a 40 watt light bulb hanging at 15 feet somewhat duplicates moonlight). Sunlight, harsh, burning is not dissimilar from fire: both are hot, burning lights. They are the cookers of nature, fire cooking food, and the sun cooking people. What then, is the moon? And what are the stars? Is the moon the light in the refrigerator, and the stars little bits of freezer burn glistening in the food-illuminating light? That sounds less than glamorous, and leaves a bit to be desired. So then, perhaps the sun is a pressure cooker, beating down on people’s backs and burning fair skin, and the moon is the relief, the creator of romance, the releaser of pressure, the illuminator of lover’s backs, busy with the business of lovers. Whether the moon is a light in the refrigerator or a de-pressurizer, it still gives most things purpose; without it, a lover howling at the moon would just be a fool howling at a 40-watt bulb hanging 15 feet up.
Gwyneth Nordine