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Blue Moon
I was sitting by my pool the other night in total solitude. I often do this, just to think about things and just relax with a pinapple soda in hand  I live away from the city, so when you turn your houselights off, it's totally pitch-black outside, save for the moon light. When I actually looked at the moon that night, it appeared quite blue. I know a blue moon is the second full-moon in a single month, but this was literally a blue moon. The moonlight shining down was no different than usual, but the moon, itself was blue in color. I think it was just an oddly-colored cloudy haze slightly obscuring my view, filtering the visible moon through some sort of chemicals (I DO live next to an experimental farm), but nonetheless, humans can only revel in the beauty of such an unusual occurence. As I stared into this anomaly, I thought about what dying truly is. I thought about how I would face the transition from this current state of conscious relativity and the world perceived by so many into the next world of uncertainty. I thought of my Grandmother. Reandom thought, I know, but how much in this world truly makes sense?
My grandmother was a very beautiful woman in her youth - polio scarred her face at a somewhat early age though, so she has lived much of her adult life bearing the mark of an insane world. I remember once seeing a picture of her in a flowing white sundress sitting atop of a verdant hill with a large, white umbrella in hand, wearing a large, white hat. She looked so very, very happy in those days, and it was a time that I knew nothing about but could somehow reflect on at an early age. Her house in California is often quite lonely, as my Grandfather works for much of his time - they rarely spek anymore, it seems. She is a very reserved and kind woman - not the kind that belongs in San Diego, it seems. Overall, though, it seems like she is epidemically depressed with her life - like she is just waiting to die. Every time she speaks to me, I can tell she is excited just to talk to me - I am her only grandson and she goes out of her way to make me feel special for it - it's almost as though the only reason she puts up with life is to be my Grandmother. Of course, this sounds quite presumptuous and selfish - but I can only express what I feel to be the truth in this matter. I know she doesn't have a long life ahead of her - especially when she wants to pass on - but I can't help but think of how she will live forever.
Here is the random thought:
Through this picture, she will live forever. I will remember her as she is, for the rest of my days, and I will reflect upon how she seemed to be in this picture of her wearing the white sundress. I bear her memory, I define her in a specific aspect - the aspect of her that is defined through her one grandson, that is. I will meet people in my life and I will remember them, just as they remember me. My essence is constituent upon my memory of her in a way, so when I share the memory of myself, it is as though she is living vicariously through the world of consideration. None of us are exempt from this - we are, in a way, one world, one entity. I share the memory of you as, in any respect, no matter how infinitisemal, you share the memory of me. In many ways, who you are as a person today is defined by the memory of everyone who has ever lived.
This is the random beauty.
Share something beautiful. It doesn't have to be about your family or about the moon, it can be anything just toally random about your life or about your day - just share something you truly, honestly, find to be absolutely beautiful. Oh, and please don't just joke around - if you think of something clever to say, please, either don't say it, or follow it up with something meaningful.
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There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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