Walking Iggy under the checkerboard sky of rain clouds and sunny blue sky seemed fitting on this Beaver Moon day. The day my legs buzzed for a good long run was the same day my head and nose told me to stay as dry and warm as possible all day. Every other block felt like a new day- one a rainy day full of industrious indoor potential, the other just a brisk autumn day full of wispy windy dreaminess.
My eternal internal torture: intense productivity versus complete creativity and wonder. Cue low grade headache. How can I do it all? This full moon condition may infect more than this crazy lady, yours truly. My husband too suggested “rain or shining it” at the Ice Age Trail until we opened the back door to sheets of rain flashing with lightening. Thunder reiterated the warning to stay inside. So after a few aimless circles around the house, he finally settled in front of the computer to an online golf game against someone across the globe.
I managed to accomplishment the heaviest tasks on my ethereal list before calling my friend Kate. She and I had made a date to hit the craft fair several blocks away. She asked when I would like to go and I heard myself say, “I just need to get another load of laundry in, finish the dishes, and bleach the sinks before I can go.” It’s not like I had a dorm mother shaking her finger at me or anything, but somehow I had designed this mandatory ultimatum to my fun day.
Why should fun come at a cost?
Yes, I get the saying, “Work hard to play hard.” So why not cushion this idea to, “Just clean a little before galavanting off all weekend, shall we?” But then we wouldn’t be taking advantage of the Beaver Moon, November’s full moon. This is either the best day to set traps for beavers or the day beavers think is best for building dams. I’m not sure which, but both versions sound to me like, “Get your game on before the winter hits.” Then, once the traps are all set, or once the dams are built as sturdy as can be, get inside, get warm, and snuggle up with your honey, because Honey, it’s going to be a long and cold winter ahead.
Yet again, it’s all about balance. So Kate and I managed to use the pub as the necessary stopping point between her house and the craft show. This was the place to temporarily dry up, get cash, and conquer a pint before doddling off to a couple rooms full of hand-poured soy candles, dough jewelry, and felted wool owls. The rain accompanied us on the way back to her house so we conversed over a hot pot of spiced tea. The conversation no less winding back to the trickiness of work/life balance. The job can’t be all about money, but yet contributing the family fund is the adult responsibility we bear. And of course the quality of work and pride one carries is just as important as the quality of time enjoyed away from work.
And so we carry on, building our resumes like dams against some mythological flood of doom so we can stretch out our limbs under the full moon glow and afford our own version of entertainment and joy. We turn onions and potatoes to soup so we can slumber with full warm bellies as the thunder lulls us to sleep. We clean the sheets just so we can make love in them again. We will wake before the sun rises to earn our simple luxuries after the sun sets. And so it goes, and on we grow into the best life we can make for ourselves.
Happy Beaver Moon!