Maybe 2020 could be the Year of the Moon? The moon, I think, has to have some mythological connection to peace and serenity, despite its less noble connections and the recurrent idea that man (woman, perhaps?) will one day set foot upon it. God forbid. In any event, wouldn’t it be lovely to be feeling peaceful and serene, some 300+ days from now, as we say Goodnight, Moon to 2020?
I am simply a moon freak. 
After my umpteenth Facebook posting of moon photos I happened to wonder, publicly, if there isn’t a good name for moon worshipper – which prompted friends to suggest Artemisians, or Selenians, or (not my favorite,) Lunatics. The nice thing would be that Artemisians/Selenians would be utterly inclusive, since the moon does not shine arbitrarily on just a chosen piece of planet earth. Thus it would be pretty hard for one group of earthlings to claim to be chosen by the moon over some other group.
And Lord knows we could use a few less exclusionary religions on planet earth. I admit to being a committed Christian, but I lean heavily toward interfaith collaboration. Especially when it comes to the Brahma Kumaris. Brahma Kumaris believe all religions are valid – imagine that. Plus, they have women priests, among whom a personal favorite is my California friend Sr. Chandru whose name roughly translates to Sister Moon. Selenians – I’m going with Selene, even if she had fifty daughters and that seems a bit much – would shine benevolently upon all humankind, while veering somewhat toward feminism. Masculinity would be okay in Selenianism, but only in a cuddly, non-aggressive Man-in-the-Moon sort of way. The only definitively male-type moon figure I find, after what was admittedly not a mythologically extensive research effort, would be Thoth, and do we need Thothism, for heaven’s sake?
Most of the photos accompanying this paean to the moon were shot from my pillow, which happens to be aimed squarely at a 7th floor west-facing window (or from that window itself.) It has featured, of late, a progression of such beautiful interactions between moon, clouds and the ever-lit urban landscape below as to make reading myself to sleep virtually impossible without regular interruptions to take iPhotos. In other seasons, when it’s full and on the wane, the moon will suddenly appear in all its glory at about 4 AM or so, shining into the bedroom as if demanding to be appreciated.
The thing about moon appreciation is that it requires absolutely no energy or profound thought; it bears no political implications, and it is immediately reciprocated with nothing but more beauty. Lest you think this movement leaves something to be desired during the non-moonlit hours, serious Selenians tend to be also cloud appreciators. Seriously. I happen to be member #45,662 of the international Cloud Appreciation Society; check it out.
So, back to the proposed Year of the Moon. Over the year just past there have been floods and fires and hurricanes and tornadoes, all at least partially related to the actions of us earthlings. And endless wars and bad stuff. But if you discount the newspaper’s front page (all known Selenians read print newspapers) there has also been much to appreciate (see ‘Happy Old Year from Mother Nature’ on this very page.)
The Year of the Moon, should we Selenians prevail, will feature even more to appreciate. Feel free to pick your own appreciation for the year: a good harvest; an electoral victory; yellow tulips; economic strength; peace and serenity; disappearance of (fill in your own blank;) good health; universal healthcare; early rainfall. We will plan to check in this time next year, to see how well it’s gone.
There seem to be a growing number of mortals on the planet who are convinced they have a direct line to the Almighty. On the face of it this looks like a pretty good thing – until you get to the point at which God is telling you something different from what She’s telling me. And that’s when I think it goes from good to scary.
Holiday letters? I am definitely ambivalent. It is lovely catching up with old friends (many of whom, on our holiday list at least, I only hear from once a year.) I’m interested in what’s been happening in their lives over the past year. I’m somewhat less interested in what’s been happening in their children’s or grandchildren’s lives although they’re usually pretty spectacular. But too many paragraphs about the latter and my eyes tend to glaze over. I resist all political messages – whether I agree with them or not. I love the letters that include remarks about books the writer has enjoyed over the year.
My favorite Thanksgiving thing has been – for the past 14 years – the San Francisco Interfaith Service. This year it was hosted (every year it’s a different faith community) by the Fifth Church of Christ, Scientist in the city’s Tenderloin District, primary locale of the homeless and the down-and-out. 
(The Christian Scientists have been in their historic building there since 1923, and after endless years of negotiating have recently gotten the green light from the city to build a multi-use high-rise including below-market housing on the site, keeping the façade and interior details –with the church itself staying put.)
(Another passerby said he had already called the emergency line to get help.) One can at least give thanks for helpers.
Belated Human Rights Day greetings to all. In case you missed it, Human Rights Day was celebrated around the globe on December 10. It was the 69th anniversary of the proclamation of the 
Another woman with a passion for human rights was 
Dr. Willie Parker wants the moral high ground back.
Both encountered a turning point, he explains, on hearing Martin Luther King’s famous last speech which included the biblical story of the good Samaritan. In that story: after others had passed by a man in need a Samaritan stops to help. Those who passed by, Dr. King said, worried, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” Parker writes in Life’s Work that “What made the Good Samaritan good, in Dr. King’s interpretation, was that he reversed the question, ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’” Immediately after hearing that, Parker writes, “Once I understood that the faithful approach to a woman in need is to help her and not to judge her or to impose upon her any restriction, penalty or shame, I had to change my life.”
When the flight attendant came by with snacks I was grateful to be able to pass my caramel-filled wafer to the child. This was nothing magnanimous on my part; I’m gluten-intolerant and couldn’t eat it. But what balanced my sadness for the little family happened after we landed. As the exiting unfolded, a young man in an Ivy League college jacket wound up right behind the mother. She was struggling with baby, small child, huge diaper bag and a canvas bag retrieved from the luggage rack. “Here,” said the young man; “Let me help.” With that he slung his duffel bag onto his back, grabbed both diaper bag and canvas sack and smilingly sent mother and brood ahead of him down the aisle. When I passed them at the end of the jetway he was pulling something out of his duffel bag – presumably a snack of some sort – for the 4-year-old.
