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| Michael Lowe | Photos by Patti Blake |
Our ancestors quaked in fear on nights when the moon
turned dark and red, interpreting the event as a warning of evil times or the
anger of their gods. For me, at least, the reaction was mild disappointment at
a natural spectacle passing invisibly beyond the cloud cover.
But now I have to wonder if it’s worse to know what
you’re missing than to discover that you miss something only after it’s gone?
… Bear with me here as I search for the metaphor
that will tie these concepts together.
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| Me, reading from 'Caliban' |
Tuesday night, I participated at Writers Gallery, a mont hly gath ering of local
writers at Chez Amavida coffee shop in Panama
City . The event is an open mic night, with writers
reading their recent work — poems, short stories, excerpts. In past mont hs, the event filled
the venue to capacity, but this week few people read or attended to listen.
A young woman remarked that Writers Gallery should
be packed because the area is home to a number of writers in all genres, not to
mention people who love to read. But Mich ael
Lowe, a poet and fiction writer who has tried to promote the event, said he
expected Writers Gallery to fade away soon because of flagging attendance.
“I’m no Nick May …” Michael suggested, referring to
the young author who established Writers Gallery a few years ago, moving it
from Joey’s Java Juice to other venues until settling at Chez Amavida; Nick and
his wife, Kayla, moved to Pensacola recently to
support a branch of Northstar Church,
placing the fate of Writers Gallery in the hands of its participants.
Attendance has steadily declined since then, Michael
said. With only three readers on Tuesday, the handwriting was on the wall.
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| From Wikipedia |
About that time, the shop’s sound system — the
background soundtrack for our conversation — began playing “Bring on the
Dancing Horses” by Echo and the Bunnymen, a song that always seemed to be more
about the end of an era than simple self-destruction.
(In retrospect, I’m wondering if it referred to
those of us who nervously stood up to read as being little more diverting than
dancing horses. “Shiver and say the words of every lie you’ve ever heard,” the
song continues.)
But at that moment, I thought about signs and
portents, which made me reconsider the eclipse. The “blood moon.” Harbin ger of the end
times. In case we didn’t get the message the first time around (or, as happened
locally, the eclipse was called on account of rain) the gods have decreed four
blood moons between last Tuesday and September of 2015.
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| From Space.com |
These events are caused, scientists will tell you,
because the orbit of the full moon takes it through the Earth’s umbral shadow,
cast because the sun is at the opposite side of the planet at just the right
angle for us to see the shadow envelope our heavenly orb. The red coloration appears
because the faint ring of sunlight passing through the Earth’s atmosphere falls
on the lunar surface like the crimson glow of a sunset.
There will be other chances to see these eclipses in
mont hs to
come, just as there will be other chances to listen or share at Writers Gallery
in mont hs to
come.
You know what you’re missing now. If you miss it in
the future, it’s on you — or perhaps you can blame it on the weather. In either
case, it likely won’t mean the end of the world, just the eventual absence of
something some of us think is special.
Peace.
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