Listen to this story: If you’re in the car, or cooking, or just lazy… you can listen to me read this story for you, in the audio file below.
Driving home from our favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant the other night, the kids spotted a bright moon shining through a blanket of drifting clouds, like the opening shot of a werewolf movie.
“A full moon!” one of them said.
“Maybe…” I replied, cautiously.
I’m oddly particular about whether or not a large, seemingly round moon is in actual fact “full”, so at a red light I turned to my phone’s weather app for confirmation. I’m not sure where this pedantry about lunar phases comes from. But full moons are a “thing” I figure. Mythic objects. Something to stand in awe of, or at least wonder at momentarily through a dirty windshield.
In a city the size of Los Angeles, it never gets dark enough to see the stars. In a way we make up for it; we call our celebrities “stars” and embed the shape into the sidewalks on Hollywood Boulevard. Climb a hill at sundown, and bright, twinkling lights are almost everywhere you look.
We love the word “star”, but when it comes to actual celestial scenery, the moon is all we got. No matter the light pollution, it will not be denied.
On a clear night, from the right vantage point, a large full moon can be intimidating, I’ve found. Nothing puts me back in my tiny place in this universe, like a big, bright, full moon.
So I didn’t want to think we were all witnessing an actual Wolf Moon on that ride home, only to find out later that it was nothing more than a silly old waxing gibbous. I persisted with the app, but was having trouble confirming the moon phase.
“You need one of those hippie websites,” said my nine-year-old son from the backseat. “Like The Moon and You or something.”
I laughed and kept fumbling around at the next light. “Oh, it is a full moon,” I finally announced. “I found it on the app. Thank god, a website like that could really have messed up my phone.”
“Yeah,” said my son. “You’d be bombarded with ads for gluten free granola and vegetarian hot dogs and stuff.” I laughed again, his little sister giggled.
My son’s old enough to have picked up on the link between moons and the mystical, I suppose. Master of the tides, keeper of seasons, symbol of fertility… the moon as sacred icon goes way back. I only recently discovered that each full moon of the year has a name, and the Wolf Moon belongs to January. (Something to do with wolves liking to howl more on cold nights.)
Perhaps the most commonly referenced in conversation is the Blue Moon; a designation saved for years when there are more full moons than months, which happens about every 2 ½ years. So, a rarity. The next Blue Moon is in May 2026.
Particular full moons have inspired some of my favorite music. I don’t think I know a person who dislikes Neil Young’s romantic ode to dancing under one, “Harvest Moon”. (For the full moon nearest the autumnal equinox, typically in September.) What a magical song, that somehow captures the dreamy spirit of basking in moonbeams. Something city dwellers rarely have the opportunity to do. Neil even waits for full moons to record albums these days, as he feels they inspire greater creativity. His recent album Barn was made under a Strawberry Moon (June, when strawberries are picked) and makes a pretty solid case for the practice.
“Pink Moon”, “Blue Moon”, “Moondance”, “Moonshadow”... the pop canon is crowded with moon songs. Perhaps howling at the moon is within us humans, too.
As much as I like a good full moon - tearing a perfect hole in an otherwise blank city sky, or lighting up a night in the desert - I think my favorite kind of moon is one you see in the daytime. Our little human brains have developed ways of managing the impossible vastness of the universe. Like, thinking of the moon and the sun as “coming up” and “going down”. Or picturing outer space as darkness, punctuated by sparkling lights, something we only consider in the black of night.
To see the moon during the day reminds me that that’s all make-believe, really. No more real than the words in a song. That of course the moon’s there, all the time (so are the stars), regardless of whether we’re awake or asleep, paying attention or not. Invisibly tethered to our spinning habitat. Something to rely on, in an ever-changing world. Silently watching us fumble and fall, and scurry around this delicate planet. Just trying to work our phones, to keep the kids fed, and deliver them home in time for bed.