Rhino Carries the Moon

As many of you probably know, elisem is a jewelry-maker of staggering talent. As many of you also probably know, she has a habit of naming the jewelry she makes, and then sending it off into the world to inspire other people to write poems or stories or knit shawls or make jewelry of their own or goodness knows what all else. And as many of you further probably know, I've written stories for Elise's jewelry. A lot of stories.

( complete list here, for them as wants it )

But I have one piece of Elise's jewelry that I think isn't a story.

It's a koan.

It's a pendant called Rhino Carries the Moon, and the most I've ever been able to get out of it is a fragmentary last line: ". . . and Rhino carried the Moon all the way home."

What I've come to realize is: that line is all it needs. This pendant isn't a story; it's a process. Because what writing is, or any creative endeavor (and I'm using "creative" in its broadest possible sense), is carrying the Moon. Every day. We are all Rhino, and it is our job to see that the Moon gets home. And the Moon is heavy and awkward, and I bet it's slippery, and you know, sometimes we drop it. And the key thing is that we pick it up again, and brush the dirt off it, and carry it another step farther. And then another step.

Patience and Fortitude, say the library lions of New York, and you know, if by "Fortitude" we mean "Obstinacy," I'd say that's about right.

Because the thing is, it's hard. Not every day. Some days it's like the Moon is carrying Rhino. But day in and day out, it's work. It's carrying the Moon. And we do the best we can, and we keep doing it. Even when it's hard. Even when we don't want to. Even when we feel bored or unhappy. Because we are Rhino and we have Patience and Fortitude to keep us company. And we love the Moon. And the Moon needs to get home.

And that's what this pendant is. It's that feeling of doing the job because the job is beautiful and needs to be done.

Thank you, Elise.