It was the waning hour of the moon, not yet dawn, as feline EmmaRose (ER) and I watched a possum forage in the moonlight, meticulous in its food selection.
It is not the first time we have watched but such viewings are increasingly rare.
The time of in-between, as night becomes morning, can be restless hours but not so this day. Perhaps it is the possum’s focus that stills us.
When the possum leaves our viewing area, ER yawns and exits her window in favor of her cat food bowl. Within seconds, I hear the familiar crunch, crunch.
Influenced by the possum or simply hungry? I will never know.
Both ER and the possum move into what comes next without hesitation. They just know.
I am content in my moonlight viewing yet without ER or the possum, thoughts distract. Sentient we are yet our sentience is not the same.
Neither ER nor the possum struggle with being present. I move into the next moment stuck in the last. What do I miss by not being present? I will never know.
Every moment is the new now, opening into an experience yet to be explored. It is the only way of being that ER and the possum know.
The new now is the hour between moonlight and dawn, drawing one into the other. There is no catching up, there is only being.
As Rumi says, “The moon won’t use the door, only the window.” And as I watch its light fade into the lifting darkness, I meet the new dawn. There seems a bit more joy in it.
But then, there really is something about watching a possum stroll by the light of the moon.