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6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Quite a frightening sentence, I know. At that time, I had been rising every Saturday to travel from my on-campus apartment to go volunteer at a dog shelter that I had chosen as my routine service site. After I walked the dogs, I would pick up my groceries for the week. Chicken, rice, and broccoli in bulk to “meal-prep” for dinner for the week. Chocolate rice cakes and almond butter for breakfast after my 7:00 a.m. workout classes at the Student Recreation Center. And of course, espresso grounds and oat milk for my daily lattes to get me through my science classes. I would travel home and listen to On Purpose, a podcast by life coach Jay Shetty, in hopes that I would get inspired to do 8 hours' worth of studying on my “rest” day. This routine, although seemingly productive, had been the detriment of my ability to enjoy what life is truly about, being one with the world around me.
One Saturday, as I was driving to the first location of my morning, I stopped at a red light. As I looked through the dark, into the night sky, I saw the most surreal, beautiful, vivacious full moon that I have ever witnessed. I have never been more physically moved by an element of the natural world than I was at that very moment. For a second, I felt this pure sense of joy that I didn’t have to work for; I just shared it with whoever else was up at that very moment and decided to peer out into the night sky. As my mind came back from a place of being enamored, the light turned green, and I was on my way.
I glanced down at my phone to see the time and noticed that the song “Yellow” by Coldplay came on. Oddly enough, the album cover was a similar full moon to the one that distracted me from my responsibilities for a couple of minutes. This recent recurrence of a stagnant moon during an active movement of life reminded me of what I desperately needed, what was more important than an ultra-productive routine: I needed to be still.
My whole existence has been a matter of product. How many people can I make smile today, how many words can I write on my lab report, how many pages can I read of this book? This false narrative that I am only of value based on my production level is false; I am not a machine, but an element of nature just like that very moon I was in awe of that Saturday morning. Obviously, my biological makeup is more intricate than the moon, for the moon is only a rock and I am a multicellular creature who can think critically. But that moon has something that I do not have, that honestly, I envy, stillness.
The days following that event, I was frantically trying to put into words this feeling that I had gained, doubting that there was even such a word to describe radiating inspiration from the moon. After doing some deep dictionary diving, I crossed the literary description of what I was emoting: selenophilia. Selenophilia takes a poetic approach of describing the moon, as the moon is considered to be a divine majesty of nature. A selenophile is described as a person who loves the moon and finds it soothingly captivating. A selenophile is also considered to be contemplative as a deep thinker, observant as a seer of the truth, and introspective as a self-reflective person.
My encapsulation with this stagnant, huge rock inadvertently revealed a lot about myself. In fact, it made me pause and consider if I was truly living a life that displayed all these intimate characteristics that selenophiles, such as myself, obtain. I found all those traits to be relative in my life as my socialization preferences gravitate towards deep conversations over small talk, my professional ambitions are connected to the truths found in science, and my most innate ability revolves around being self-aware – sometimes too much so. These beautiful human qualities I obtain, have been muted due to the constant movement in my life. Stillness would allow the inner parts of me to take rightful reign in my life, and consequently allow me to truly live as I should: not as a machine that constantly produces, but as a deliberate part of this world that offers the completion of my spirit.
Now, I claim the title of being a selenophile, as I was greatly moved by that conflagrant moon on that Saturday morning. The blazing presence of that rock purposefully ignited the conviction within me: to intentionally pause and be serene during the busy times of my life. My purpose on this earth is not to solely produce, but rather to develop a balance of work and stillness. The moon taught me such a method, by its ability to just be present among the rest of the beauty of this world. Its stillness is admirable, and because of that I now find myself searching the night sky during moments of stress in my life, for I know the moon will captivate my attention, push me towards serenity, and ignite my spirit.
Anna Williams, of Lawrenceburg, Ky., is a member of the McConnell Scholar Class of 2025 at the University of Louisville. She plans to study biology.