It’s 9:53 in the evening, and the total eclipse of the super blood wolf moon (yes, that’s actually a thing) started about twenty minutes ago and will last for the next three hours. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. Every several minutes I’m wrapping a blanket around my waist like a sarong, walking into our backyard, and checking it out. Thankfully, after weeks of clouds covering up the sun and stars, tonight the sky is clear. Maybe there’s a little haze, but even in the light of the full moon, I can still see The Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, Orion, and Canis Major (among others). And then there’s the eclipse. Eeek. This is more exciting than football.

For me at least.

Here’s a picture of the full moon a couple hours before the eclipse started.

Last summer I started a book called The Power of Your Other Hand by Lucia Capacchione, which suggests you can tap into your inner child, artist, writer, healer, and teacher by writing or drawing with your non-dominant hand. And whereas I was balls-to-the-wall into this book when I first got it, it’s been collecting dust for months now. Still, for whatever reason, I thought about it this afternoon and decided it was time to pick it back up, read a chapter, and do the suggested exercises, one of which involved dialoguing with my body by writing questions with my dominant hand (my right) and writing answers with my non-dominant one (my left).

Talk about talking to yourself.

For over an hour, I went through this process, asking questions of my body in general, my head and shoulders, my stomach, my knee, and my skin. Who or what are you? How do you feel? Why do you feel this way? What can I do to help you? And whereas I’ll spare you all the specific answers, I will say that my body apparently feels neglected and picked on (by me). For example, when I first asked about my headaches, it said, “I feel ignored. I am here to help. You put so much pressure on me to go and do and learn. You must like pressure. I mirror that, all your pushing.”

With this in mind, I’m really going to try to take it easier on myself, to stop asking my body to be something it’s not, like healthier, straighter (in terms of posture, not sexuality), or prettier/handsome-er. I truly can be so fucking demanding of myself. A real critical hard ass. A perfectionist. (Take your time to digest this information; I realize it may come as a surprise.) Sometimes when I see someone who’s beautiful, part of me thinks that means I’m not. But my body specifically asked me to stop comparing myself to other people or wishing to be “like him,” so my new mantra is I’m beautiful too.

Now it’s 10:57, and the moon is completely eclipsed by the earth’s shadow. Incidentally, it’s called a blood moon because it doesn’t absolutely disappear during the eclipse but rather glows red. It’s called a super moon because it’s closer to the earth than normal and therefore larger, and it’s called a wolf moon because the January moon is always called the wolf moon (because wolves howl at it?). Thus, Super Blood Wolf Moon Eclipse. Geez. What a mouthful. Anyway, the moon will be in totality (totally covered up) for about an hour, then it will begin to show again. And whereas I have zero desire to be outside for the entire affair, I do want to wrap this up so I can continue to go outside every five or ten minutes and see what’s going on. Plus, while the moon isn’t shining as bright, I’ll be able to see and identify more stars and constellations.

I’m seriously nerding out right now.

Just because I can’t help myself, here’s a little astronomy lesson. If you’re looking at the moon in the east, uh, before midnight tonight, you should be able to see two bright stars “above” it. These are Castor and Pollux, the two brightest stars in Gemini. Below and to the right of the moon, you’ll find Procyon, the brightest star in Canis Minor (The Lesser Dog). Then there’s Orion in the  south (easily identified by the three stars in his belt), and and if you follow his belt “down,” you’ll find Sirius in Canis Major (The Greater Dog), Sirius being the brightest star in the night sky. Sirius is the reason we have the expression “the dog days of summer.” Since the sun tracks near Canis Major in the summer, the ancients believed the constellation’s brightest star added to the heat of our sun and, therefore, our days.

Okay, I obviously went on a little bit of an astronomy rant there. I really do need to get going. Still, it occurs to me that an eclipse, at first sight, is an ominous event. In this case, all the light of the moon is slowly blacked out. One might think, What are we doing to do? But then just as surely as the light disappears, it comes back. Phew, what a relief. All is not lost. This reminds me that often things can seem bleak, but as long as we’re alive there’s a chance to gently start again–with ourselves, our bodies, and each other.