New moon. The Moon entirely in Earth’s shadow. The darkest night, when it is hard to see the tip of your own nose, yet easier to see the world. More of it, and farther.

Several themes won’t leave me alone. They return like comets. At times I have the feeling they are first principles—things I should recognize, name, and describe. Confront them for my own benefit, and perhaps not only mine. I don’t entirely trust this instinct. It is tainted with illusions and vanity. Suspiciously often, the urge to forge a theory of everything afflicts white middle-aged men. But sometimes I see my place and my significance on the proper scale and in proper proportion. With humility and without delusions. And the themes remain within sight and still seem important.

I have stared at the full Moon. In rapture, with wonder, emotion, and pride—that I stand there and look and see. Sometimes I imagined I was standing on the Moon, and it seemed beautiful and magnificent. A goal worthy of the greatest sacrifices—to stand on the Moon and on subsequent satellites. But these are only baubles.

Over the next thirteen new moons that will fill the year 2026, I will try to grasp a few themes. And then set them free.

Reflection

Lady Moon.

(Did someone shatter the quicksilver?)

No.

What child has flicked on

the lantern?

Even a butterfly could 

blow you out.

Be quiet!... (Can it really!)

That glowworm

is the moon!

Federico García Lorca, Mirror Suite