So this week, a listener who goes by the name of Boo, hi Boo, left me a comment asking if I could create a longer episode, because sometimes they get to the end and they're not quite asleep. I happened to be working on this episode when I read the comment, and usually I edit these scripts down quite a bit. I like them to be a certain number of pages, but this time, I decided to leave it as it was, which makes this story a lot longer than usual.I'm hoping my voice holds out. I'll do my best, and I'm also going to play it again after the story ends. So if you're still awake, it will keep going.And thank you Boo, and thank you everyone who takes the time to comment. I read everything that you send me, and I take it to heart, so tonight is a full moon. And it's not just an ordinary full moon.It's a blue moon. But before you look out the window, expecting to see something very blue and spectacular, I should tell you that it doesn't look blue. A blue moon just means it's the second full moon in a single month.May already had a full moon at the beginning of the month. So this, it's an extra moon, and this happens roughly every two and a half years. That's where the phrase comes from.Once in a blue moon. We say good things only happen once in a blue moon. The right person comes along once in a blue moon. We use it to mean don't hold your breath. But there it is in the sky tonight. A blue moon. It's actually there. Doesn't look special, but sometimes the extraordinary doesn't always look extraordinary when it arrives. Sometimes it looks very ordinary.Sometimes the moment that changes everything starts like just another day. And I think that's what the blue moon is telling us tonight. Not that life is easy.We know it's not. Not that everything works out perfectly. But that rare things happen.Good things that you stopped believing in. They show up. Not always how you imagined.But they show up. And if you've been lying here tonight. Sleepless.Feeling that nothing ever changes. I just want to remind you that there is a blue moon in the sky. And that rare isn't the same as impossible.So tonight we're going to follow this blue moon across the sky and see what it sees. And somewhere along the way I hope you fall asleep feeling like maybe. There's more possibility out there than you thought.But before we start, please make sure that you are somewhere safe to fall asleep. You want to be in your comfortable bed and not anywhere you need to stay alert. And now, let's get you settled.Take a moment right now to notice where you are in your bed. This place you come to every night. This small quiet place that is yours.Feel the mattress beneath you. The way your body settled into it. Notice your pillow.Coolness of it. The softness of it. Feel your blankets around you.Notice that feeling of being covered. Being wrapped in something warm. Such a simple thing, blankets.They make us feel held in the walls around you. This quiet space keeping the world out. This room is yours. These four walls are doing their job tonight. And their job is to keep you safe. The darkness too.It's doing its job. It's telling your body that the day is over. Not everyone has this. A safe place. A warm bed. If you have that tonight, let yourself feel that.Not guilt. Just a quiet gratitude. And then when you're ready, take a deep breath in.Hold it for just a moment and then let it go. In a nice, long, slow exhale. And just one more time.Breathe in. Slowly. Filling your lungs. Hold it. And then release. Nice. Now you can just relax. And let yourself breathe normally. Enjoy the feeling of just this.Just rest. Your day is done. In a moment, we're going to follow the blue moon across the sky tonight. We're going to see what it sees. And all you need to do is to listen to my voice. And let the images come.Don't try to picture everything perfectly. Just let the images drift in the way dreams do. As we go somewhere beautiful. Right now, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the moon is becoming full. It happens in a single moment. The earth moves into perfect alignment between the sun and the moon. And suddenly, light floods across the entire face of the moon. Not gradually. All at once. And this is the second full moon of May. The blue moon. The moon doesn't know this.It simply continues on its path. Following the same orbit it has followed for billions of years. It rises over the eastern horizon.Enormous and silver white. Not blue at all. Just the color of moonlight. And as it climbs higher, its light spreads across the ocean below. The water is dark. Nearly black. But where the moonlight touches it, it transforms. Silver pathways across the surface. Light broken into thousands of moving pieces. And then, in the darkness beneath, something stirs. A pod of humpback whales traveling north through deep water. The matriarch surfaces first. She's massive. Weighing nearly 40 tons. Her body breaks through the surface in mere silence. Just the sound of water slicing off her barnacled back. And then comes her breath. Column of mist.Shooting 15 feet into the air. Catching the moonlight. Flowing for just a moment before it dissolves. She breathes out everything she's been holding. And then she breathes in. Deep.Full. Her enormous lungs filling with cool night air. Her skin is almost black.It's covered in patches of barnacles and scars from a lifetime of travel. And her eyes. Small for such an enormous creature.Each one about the size of a grapefruit. They're dark and aware. The calf surfaces beside her.Just a year old, he follows her movements exactly. Breathing when she breathes. Diving when she dives. Another whale surfaces on her other side. An adult female. Probably her daughter from years ago. And then two more. A family traveling together. They're heading north.Toward feeding grounds in colder waters. Do they notice the moon? Maybe. In their own way. The moon pulls the tides. When the tides move the water, they swim through. They feel it.The rhythm of it. The way the ocean rises and falls in response to something above them. Something enormous and distant. The matriarch floats at the surface for a long moment. The moonlight shines on her back. On the curve of her dorsal fin. And then with barely a sound, she dives. The others follow. One by one. Their tails lifting, catching the moonlight for just a moment. And then disappearing into the black water. The ocean is smooth again. Just the moon's reflection moving across the surface. And the moon moves west. And the stars shift across the sky behind it. Constellations that were just rising in the east are climbing higher. And far below, the curve of the earth turns beneath the moon's gaze. Carrying new landscapes into view. A coastline appears. And then a harbor. Small boats in neat rows. Their masts catching the moonlight. And beyond that, a coastal town. The kind of place where fishing boats still go out at dawn. The buildings are low. Stucco and weathered wood. Terracotta roofs. And most of the windows are dark. The town is sleeping. But in one small house near the top of the hill, there is a soft glow in an upstairs window. The blue moon shines through that window. Through a thin cotton curtain. Moving slightly in the breeze. Through the window left open to let in the cool night air. Inside, a baby sleeps in a wooden crib. He's so new to the city. To this world. And his eyes are open. Dark and unfocused. Staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight is coming through the curtain and casting shadows on the wall above his crib. The curtain moves in the breeze. And the shadows move with it. Shifting. Changing shape. And the baby watches. His face is so small. Round. His cheeks are soft and full. No expression. Except this deep, serious concentration. His mouth is slightly open. His tiny hands are curled into loose fists near his face. He doesn't understand what he's seeing. He doesn't have language yet. Or shadow. Or light. He doesn't know what the moon is. Shining in through his window. But his eyes follow the movement. Trying to understand. Such a human thing. His need to understand the world. It starts immediately. Even in someone so new. So small. His breathing is soft. His tiny chest rising and falling beneath the thin cotton of his sleeper. It's blue. With tiny white stars printed on it. Someone chose those stars. Someone who loves him. And on a chair in the corner, a sweater is draped. It's hand knitted. Cream colored. Soft wool. Waiting to wrap around someone's shoulders when the night gets cooler. And through the doorway. Left open just a bit. You can hear breathing. Two people asleep in the next room. Exhausted from the work of today. They're sleeping now. Deeply.Peacefully. Knowing he's there. And that he's safe. His eyelids are beginning to grow heavy now. Starting to droop. But he is fighting it. He's not ready yet to let go of this mysterious moving pattern above him. But then slowly his eyes close. Just for a moment. And then open again. Trying so hard to stay awake. Trying to keep watching. But sleep is patient. It waits. And then the baby's eyes close. Finally. And his small fists unclench. His hands relax. Fingers spreading slightly. Like little stars. And he sleeps. And the moon moves on. It's climbing higher now into the sky. Leaving the coastal town behind. And the stars continue their slow wheel across the sky. The moon travels inland now. Leaving the coast behind. Over hills covered in dark forest. Over valleys where rivers wind through the darkness. And then the landscape changes. Below, a wide meadow opens up. Acres and acres of open ground. Treeless. Covered entirely in low growth. This meadow wasn't always here. Three years ago, this was forest. Douglas firs packed so tightly together that almost nothing grew beneath them. Just a few ferns in the deepest shade. Moss on fallen logs. But not much else. The tall trees took all the light. All the water. All the space. And then, one dry summer, lightning struck. The fire burned for weeks. When it was finally out, when the smoke cleared, this looked like the end of something. Blackened trunks. Ash. Emptiness. But it wasn't the end. The forest knew what to do. Fire is part of the cycle here.  part of how things renew, and now, the meadow is alive. Hundreds of thousands of plants that couldn't survive in the dense forest are thriving now. Lupins cover the ground.Their leaves are closed now, folded up for the night, but in the moonlight, you can see them everywhere. Gray-green, rising on tall stalks in daylight. They're purple and blue and pink, all seas of color. And there are other flowers, fireweed. Their flowers closed into tight buds at the top of each stalk. In a few weeks, they'll open into brilliant magenta blooms, but for now, they're resting. And there are paintbrush flowers scattered everywhere. They look like someone dipped a brush in red paint. They're closed too, but you can see their shapes.Tiny, bright points, waiting for the sun. Grasses have filled in, everywhere the flowers haven't claimed. Native bunchgrass, soft and fine. It moves in waves when the breeze passes over the meadow, the whole meadow, breathing. Before the fire, none of this could grow, but the fire cleared the way, and then life moved in. The seeds were already here.Some of them had been waiting in the soil for decades, waiting for their chance. This is what the natural world does. It doesn't stand in the ashes, thinking about what used to be.It grows. It moves forward. Disaster and renewal.They're part of the same cycle. The blue moon shines down on the meadow, on the lupins, and the fireweed, and the paintbrush, and the grass. The moon watches the grasses move, the shadows shift, the whole field breathing quietly under the stars. And then it continues. Below the meadow gives way to foothills, and the foothills rise toward mountains. And beyond the mountains, a different kind of emptiness waits.Desert. Stretching in every direction as far as the moon can see. In daylight, this sand would be golden.But under the blue moon's light, it's completely different. Almost white. Luminous. The dunes roll across the landscape in long, sweeping curves. Some of them are 300 feet high. Rising and falling like frozen waves.And it is sliding. Constantly. Grain by grain.The wind moves across the dunes. And you can see it happening. A thin veil of sand lifting from the crest of a dune. Flowing like water. Like silk. Pouring down the steep face in delicate streams.The surface is never still. Always moving. If you could reach down and take a handful of this sand, it would feel cool now.At night, it releases heat quickly. By this hour, it's cool to the touch. The grains would sift through your fingers like water.Rounded from centuries of being tumbled by wind. The moon shines down. And every surface catches the light.The shadows between the dunes are deep and black. It looks empty. But it's not. Something is moving down there. At the base of a dune. Something small is making its way across the sand.A beetle. About the size of a quarter. It's black and hard-shelled.With long legs made for walking on sand. It's climbing up the face of a small dune. And it's harder than it looks. Sand shifts. Slides. Offers no solid ground.But the beetle keeps going. Up the slope. One step at a time. It spent the daylight hours buried deep beneath the sand. Where the temperature stays cool. But now, in the darkness, it's safe to emerge. Safe to move. Safe to search for food. It's looking for anything organic it can find.It will walk for hours tonight. Covering remarkable distances on those long legs. Harvesting.What the desert offers. It's one of the most perfectly adapted creatures on earth. It's built for a place that seems impossible. Thriving where nothing else can. This beetle reaches the crest of the small dune. It pauses there for a moment.Silhouetted against the moonlit sky. And then it tips over the edge. And disappears.Down the other side. Continuing its patient search. And the blue moon watches.Shining down on the beetle. On the dunes. The wind shifts slightly and a veil of sand lifts from a nearby crest.Everything here is in motion. The dunes migrating slowly across the desert floor. Moving inches.Every year. The sand grains tumbling. The beetle walking on its long night journey. Nothing is permanent. Nothing fixed. Just patient change. The moon moves on. Higher still in its arc. And below the desert gives way gradually to scrubland.And the scrubland to grassland. And the grassland to something greener. And then the moon is descending.Beginning the long slope down toward the western horizon. It shines on forests and fields. On highways empty of traffic.On a river winding through farmland. Its surface like a mirror. And then at the edge of a village, the moon's light falls on a small house.There's a garden surrounding the house. With rows of vegetables. Neat and weeded. Flower beds along the path. Though the blooms are still closed. There's a stone path leading to the front door.It is worn smooth on the center from decades of footsteps. The windows are dark. Except for one.A bedroom. The kind of room two people have shared for so long it's shaped itself around them. And there is a bed against the far wall.And in the bed, two people are sleeping. They're an elderly couple. Their bodies settled into the comfortable positions they've found over years of sleeping in this same bed.The woman is on the left. And her hair is completely silver. Long and loose.Right across the pillow in soft waves. Her face is deeply lined. Smile lines around her eyes and mouth.Lines across her forehead. The kind that come from decades of expression. Of laughter.And worry. And concentration. One hand rests on the top of the quilt. The man is on the right. And his face is weathered. Tanned from years of working outdoors.Lines carved deep around his eyes. Across his forehead. Bracketing his mouth. The quilt is pulled up to his chest. And on the nightstand beside him, there is a book. Facedown.Open to hold his place. His reading glasses are folded neatly on top of it. He fell asleep reading.Again. And she woke just enough to notice. Just enough to reach over and gently take the glasses from where they'd slipped down his nose. Just enough to fold them carefully. And set them aside. To take the book from where it was resting on his chest.And mark his place. And set it down. His hand is resting on the quilt too.Close to hers. And in their sleep, without either of them knowing it, their fingers have found each other. Just barely. The tips of his fingers touching the edge of her palm. The moonlight falls across both of them. Across the quilt. Across their faces. Across their hands. Almost touching. This hasn't been an easy life. You can see it in the deep lines on their faces. In the way their hands rest. Gnarled from work. From use. From arthritis that makes certain movements painful now. And the medications on the nightstand. There have been times when money was tight. And worry kept them awake. There have been losses. There have been times when they weren't sure they'd make it through. But they did make it through. And there has been joy too. Laughter that shook the walls. Grandchildren running through the garden. Evenings spent on the porch watching the sunset. Small pleasures. A perfect tomato from the garden. Bread in the oven. Rain on the roof. A life. A full, rich, complicated, beautiful life. The blue moon watches over them. The way it's watched over countless couples. Countless lives. Countless quiet moments just like this one. They don't know that the moon is rare tonight. They don't know that it won't return for two more years. They're asleep. The moon knows. Shining through their window. And then slowly the moon continues its descent. The stars near the eastern horizon are fading. Not disappearing, just dimming. Losing their brightness. The moon is low now.Enormous again. The way full moons always appear when they're near the edge of the world. Some trick of the atmosphere. Of the way light bends through all that air near the horizon. It's been crossing the sky all night. Shining its light on whales, babies, and meadows full of wildflowers. On deserts. And beetles. On two people who have spent a lifetime together. On you. The sky continues to change. A thin line of color appears at the eastern horizon. And somewhere a bird calls. A single no in the darkness. Testing the air. Checking whether it's time. And then another bird answers. And then another. Across the world, the night is ending. The blue moon slips further. Just a sliver of light remaining above the edge of the world. And then, it's gone. Tonight the blue moon showed us a world full of things we almost never see. And these things don't wait for us to notice them. They happen anyway. Every night. Whether we're paying attention or not. And that's what the blue moon tells us about life. Not that magic is rare. But that we rarely stop long enough to see it. We say, once in a blue moon, when we mean almost never. When we mean, don't count on it. But look what happened tonight. A second full moon in May. Something that wasn't supposed to fit into the calendar. Something that shouldn't be here. But is. The universe made room for it anyway. And if the sky can make room for an unexpected moon. Then there is room in your life too. There is room for the thing you stopped hoping for. Room for the change you think is impossible. Room for the surprise you can't predict. Hope isn't foolish. Hope is what keeps you watching the door when it opens. And sure, life is hard. There are nights when you lie here and the weight of everything feels like too much. Nights when sleep won't come because the worry is too loud. Or the road ahead looks too long. But this is also true. You have survived every single difficult day you've ever had. And you are still here in the world for all its difficulty. It's full of beauty. Happening just beyond the edges of what we normally see. That's the message of the blue moon. Not that everything will be perfect. That there's always, always more possibility than you can see from where you're standing. Carry it with you into sleep tonight. Not as a wish. Not as a fantasy. But as something real. Something the moon showed you. Something. That's true.