A Visit from the Moon Goddess
Tonight the moon is waning. The silver crescent casts a soft pearly beam of light into my studio through the old double doors and traces a path to my worktable. I am working late into the night to recover my creative pace after a weekend of friends and food.
I like leaving the lights off for a moment as I enter the studio, to enjoy the moonbeam and the bit of sparkle from my almost filled kiln shelf on the work table. Even the moon loves dichroic glass. There is a special soft glow from the light caressing the glass jewelry on the shelf. The glass pieces have been waiting alone in the studio, alone in the moonlight, until I enter.
My hand reaches for the familiar switch by the door and the ugly harshness of the studio lights illuminate every corner, every surface, every hiding place of dust, exposing a thousand tiny sparkling shards of glass that had been hiding in the darkness. The work table and tools beckon to me. They have been waiting for three days to be useful again.
I have chased the moon away and dispelled the moment. All beauty fled for the reality of work. But the unfired pieces on the kiln shelf have not forgotten their rendezvous with the moon goddess and I have not forgotten the moment. Perhaps some bit of the moon will remain in the glass and come out of the kiln, glowing, with lingering suggestions of a waning crescent.
Will the woman who wears this jewelry notice? Will she notice that she carries the moon?