Days (and the Moon)

Are big ass blessings that we hardly appreciate.

Just thinking about it makes my anxiety skyrocket, it's like I'm so grateful and so overwhelmed at the incredible awesomeness of it that I can't think about it!

Every day is an opening into a new realm of opportunity. We wake up in the morning--refreshed, rejuvenated, relieved--but what morning did I wake up and realize how fucking lucky I am to have another day? Each day is just a promise from the universe--a way of comforting us tiny beings--a promise, reminding us that no matter how we spend our day, the earth will turn and there will always be another one tomorrow. And the day after. Forever. I mean talk about consistency! Always having that one constant makes me feel much safer in this crazy world of ours.

Tangent sparked by this train of thought:
I wear contacts. I look at the moon through them all the time. The only time I watch the moon without my little plastic visual aids is while I'm bundled up in my sleeping bag, drifting asleep on a gently rocking rubber raft. This is a very unique moon. I look up at it through the drawstring of my mummybag and I do not see a concrete circular white object. When left to their own devices my eyes like to play tricks on me so I lay there staring up at a brilliant, blue, multifaceted diamond in the sky (perfectly sober by the way). It's almost as thought the moon has become translucent and blue but my eyes see multiple blue moons and overlap them just enough to make it look 6 times bigger and made of many shining surfaces. It's very beautiful.