the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
Last night there was a blood moon. Dear hubby and I settled ourselves in lawn chairs and prepared for the show. We watched as the full moon disappeared and turned a beautiful shade of red.
The blood moon was a part of the Jewish year. There has been publicity around the “Schemitah”prophecy. A few weeks ago, we were sent a YouTube video about this by a relative recently in which the rabbi on the talk show “It’s Supernatural”. He said Schemitah, no less than 101 times. Yeah, hubby counted. “Proof” given was in the 7 year cycle. From a website:
Every seven years is a Sabbath year also called a Shemitah year. This is a year of rest, just as the seventh day of the week is a day of rest. Every seventh Shemitah (7×7=49) is followed by a Jubilee year, a year of celebration. This Shemitah of Shemitah has also had a Tetrad of four Blood Moons all occurring on Jewish feast days, which has not happened in 2000 years!
Yeah, there are 4 Schemitahs in those sentences alone. Needless to say, we had a bit of fun with this. Extra toilet paper? Schemitah! More cans of black beans? Schemitah! Fill up our cars with gas Sunday instead of Monday? Schemitah! Ok, I know, disrespectful, but really, peeps.
So during the eclipse last night, we watched as it transformed into the beautiful blood moon. Watching it, we realized we could never see it closely, nor take a decent picture with our wimpy cell phones. Crap. Where was the Schemitah foresight to get even a 6th grade telescope at Walmart? Bah.
Then I remembered I had an old pair of bird watching binoculars, which belonged to my grandpa, in the closet upstairs and got them. The binoculars are old, a good 50-75 years old or more. They no longer have straps or a buckle on the leather case, long since disintegrated and fallen off over the years. Surprisingly, they let us see the moon a tiny bit closer.
Stained with use, the binoculars hold memories of my grandfather looking at cardinals in the trees and wrens by their birdhouse. It brought back times when we would walk after supper and his tuneless whistle. His instruction on how to play Cribbage and his nose whistle. The way he could sleep in any position and how he snored. How he stirred sugar into his coffee so loud in the morning it got most of us up. His morning breakfast of coffee and homemade bread, toasted with sharp cheddar cheese. I see nod of approval at using the binoculars again. I hear him laughing at the blood moon prophecy.
Good call, gramps, good call.