Notes from the Waxhaws


with 2 comments

I love the moon. It’s become a faithful companion.

It was in the spring of 1791 that George Washington embarked upon his ‘Southern Tour’…after having been elected the nation’s first president.  On May 27th, he stopped at Nathan Barr’s tavern, on the northern outskirts of Lancaster, South Carolina, where he had breakfast. It’s said that he  paid for his meal by cutting a Spanish dollar in half with his sword, and then giving the half-dollar to one of Barr’s young daughters.

He followed the highway north to Charlotte…on horseback in good weather…in a carriage when the weather turned foul. He passed within a mile of my house…on the road I travel everyday on my way to work. It must have looked very different then. All of the trees that I see on my daily journey are surely much younger than two hundred years. But…the lay of the land would have been somewhat recognizable…the profile of the rolling hills…Cane, Waxhaw, and Twelve Mile Creeks having to be crossed. Little else would have looked familiar, though. But up above…in the sky…George probably gazed upon a sight that appeared exactly the same as it does today.

I like the way that David Whyte, in his poem Faith, describes the moon as being,

“…faithful even as it fades from fullness, 

slowly becoming that last curving and impossible 

sliver of light before the final darkness.”

For me…the moon has become a guide…a mentor. A constant companion…that, every month, patiently takes me through the complete cycle of birth…to fullness of life…to fading away. A constant reminder not to grasp too strongly, onto that which will surely…and inevitably, disappear. It teaches me, as Whyte so eloquently suggests, to take seriously…and remain faithful to…my apprenticeship to my own disappearance.

Written by Jim

June 25, 2013 at 7:18 pm

2 Responses

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  1. Lovely, Jim~

    Patti Grace

    June 26, 2013 at 1:15 am

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