What the Moon Told Me
a Love letter to la luna
Dear Moon,
I fell in Love with you when I was 13.
Trauma had greeted my path as my mom and dad split up and the only world I ever knew changed drastically.
Years later, my dad, sister, brother and I moved to a small, sweltering cow town one hour north, called Winters. It was quite different from where I grew up in West Marin, just north of San Francisco.
Kids stared at me in class like I was… different.
Due to a seemingly unfair decision made by the courts, I was only with my mom every other weekend. When my dad would drive me down to her place every other Friday night, I would stare at you.
All my life you had been a distant foreign beauty, yet now I saw your intricately complex patterns. You felt close to me, your bold white glow lighting up the whole vast black sky.
You spoke to a dark place inside of me too.
One night on the drive as I gazed at you, I clearly heard you speak. You said,
“Change is the only constant.”
We grew close on those drives. I wrote in my journal about you.
I became especially fond of your crescent shape, and when I was 14 years old I asked my dad if I could get a tiny tattoo of you in chocolate brown ink.
I felt like you were part of me.
When life felt hard, I would remember your words…
Change is the only constant.
My dad said no about the tattoo. I asked again when I was 16. No, again. So when I turned 18, I mischievously grabbed a drink with some friends and went to the tattoo parlor.
Now 30 years later, you are my body's only tattoo. I have a scar from breaking my jaw in college in a bike crash, a scar from burning my ankle in a campfire, and a scar from brain surgery.
You are like these, a marking of the human condition, troubled and small, fragile yet bewilderingly resilient.
Tonight as I lay here and write to you, I am reminded that change is the only constant.
Your full bold glow comforts me as I greet yet another wave of human evolution in my own story.
We humans can either shrink or rise, grow from our self judgment or shine in the integrity of our self-worth.
You are a glowing example of refusing not to shine.
In moments when I see how I have sold myself short, given generously in partnerships where I got ‘bread crumbs’ back, tolerating so much less than I am worth, you remind me that all it takes to turn the tide is my refusal not to shine.
If change is the only constant in the human experience — why not keep choosing to see the Light within us?
Your glow implants me with an insistence on shining.
Your voice quiets my human drama when I forget to see the Light.
Blue moon, blood moon, low moon, moon inside of me.
I love you,
Jessica
Ever been to The Marsh Theater in Berkeley or San Francisco? It’s “a breeding ground for new performance”. While drafting the script for my March 2025 one-woman-show, Making Love to Fear, I learned about this very special theater through seasoned actress Kathryn Keats, creator of The Hummingbird.
Last night I saw Seeing Stars, a funny and soulful performance by Steve Budd. They offer shows in-person and streaming. Check out their calendar for some urban down-home theatrical joy.
Loving you today and always~
Jessica
Jessica Rios
Writer + Performer + Love Coach