As I shot photos of the August 10 super moon, I had no thoughts of it being a bad moon rising – still don’t, really. It was a beauty to behold, and celestial events still excite me. I was like a kid with the camera that night, and pointed the moon out to Zuzu, who politely looked and at least pretended to be interested.
But that song started playing in my head within 24 hours or so. For quite some time I’ve had that waiting feeling again, waiting for something, and I’m not sure it’s all arrived yet.
Last week was a rough one. Two great losses for the entertainment world and Ferguson, Mo., bursting into insanity after a horrible, horrible shooting. Personally, I felt like I was spinning out of control from the weight of it all.
Enough. More than enough.
I always feel guilty when someone commits suicide, especially when it’s someone I know – could I have made a difference? Could I have said something, done something?
Maybe that’s a common feeling. Maybe it’s just me. People don’t talk about it much.
But they have been talking about Robin Williams. I don’t want to exploit him or his death in any way – I just want to say that many people I’ve talked to have felt a great loss, a great weight and sadness. As well as shock.
Lauren Bacall went out in style at a glorious 89, but with her went the glamour of the golden age of Hollywood. I’ll miss her being in the world.
And Ferguson, Mo. Can’t even discuss it.
Today we learned Isis has beheaded an American journalist. I’m heartsick and so reminded of Daniel Pearl more than 12 years ago. Will we never progress out of this loop?
Saturday that would have been just about enough to sink me. But this morning I woke up feeling more like myself. I’ve been gaining strength since Sunday, when I took time out of my “too busy” schedule to go to a little party at a friend’s. My gut told me it was important to go, and I’m glad my sister went, too.
We played with essential oils – and as soon as I got a whiff of one called “Peace and Calming,” I realized what was missing from my life right now. You can’t really put an olfactory experience into words, and if you don’t immediately get it, you’ll just think I’m a loon.
That’s OK – won’t be the first time.
I’m just relieved that for now, anyway, the super moon is a super moon. “Bad Moon Rising” has faded and I’m hearing other songs. I’m not quite dancing in the moonlight, but I do feel like my mojo is returning.