I.
I visited MASS MoCA last month in North Adams, MA. The museum has several James Turrell light installations on view, including one where you walk through a pitch dark, narrow corridor into a second room that’s lit by a barely discernible glow. The effect completely disconnects your sense of sight and spatial awareness; the posted signs request that you sit in the space for 15 minutes.
As I waited, twitching, there was a decided turning point: my pupils opened and the shape of the room snapped into focus. My sense of scale was completely off: I thought I was in an auditorium, but the size was actually closer to a small bedroom.
II.
I’ve shared this before, but it’s been a while since I wrote about how Moon Lists started. Nearly a decade ago I was reading a magazine on a flight and came across an interview with Sam Abell, a former National Geographic photographer. (He’s now in his 80s, residing in the Smokey Mountains.) In the piece, he mentions a monthly ritual he and his wife had developed over the years: a list of questions they asked each one another reflect on time passing and recount their recent experiences.
I was curious and wrote to him, asking if he'd be open to sharing the list and would permit me to recreate the idea in my own way. Nearly a year later he replied with a letter, enclosing 20 or so questions. My favorite is called "Proportion to the Universe." He described it as:
“This is about something in our lives that is well scaled to how we want to live. The phrase comes from [Okakura Kakuzō’s] The Book of Tea. In it the author discusses the virtues of the tea ceremony. One is ‘proportion to the universe.’ This idea has great appeal to Denise and me, and even though our own drinking of tea is far from a ‘ceremony,’ it is something we do every morning together in a mindful way. My entry this past month was the outdoor shower. In May it is covered with fragrant honeysuckle, and hummingbirds come for the nectar, often while I’m showering. When that happens I feel in perfect ‘proportion to the universe.’”
III.
James Turrell wrote, “I want to look at light, rather than have light illuminate another thing.”
At first I interpreted this to mean… absolutely nothing. I’m suspicious of a man who buys a crater.
Turrell's work borrows heavily from Plato's allegory of the cave. In it, prisoners are bound underground, facing only a wall. Behind them, a fire projects blurred shadows of the outside world onto the wall - they name and interpret the silhouettes and ambient echoes as reality. Plato suggests that in this metaphor, the philosopher is one who has broken free from the cave, seeing the world straight-on. The prisoners are content with their illusions.
IV.
I was planning to write this month's prompts about September: renewed gusto, back to business, lock-it-in, doop de do. But I kept getting stuck...or like I was subconsciously manufacturing a narrative. Or maybe trying to make myself relate to an arc that felt cozy and familiar. I guess that’s looking at the shadow, not the light?
Instead, I wrote September’s prompts are about “Proportion to the Universe”: moments when scale quietly shifts, your eyes adjust, and you catch both the story you’ve been spinning and the perspective to see where you actually stand.
Prompts for ‘Proportion to Universe’
1. Dilated Pupils
Recall a recent time where your experience was altered just by sitting with it. Nothing external changed, but—like eyes adapting to the dark—you were the variable that needed adjusting.
2. Playing God
I took a tour of Salvador Dali's home in Cadaqués, Spain. Inside, he had many miniature cages nailed to the wall where he trapped crickets because he found their chirping soothing. (Sorry to kick things off with a truly disturbed anecdote.)
Recall a moment when you felt an exaggerated sense of power. Perhaps it’s more about the need to feel in control.
3. Blue Dragon
On the same trip to Spain, we were warned about the Blue Dragon: a dazzling, cerulean jellyfish-adjacent sea creature whose venomous sting can knock you flat.
When did something tiny feel outsized, unpredictable, or terrifying?
4. Mike Cinnamon
A friend told a story about a college acquaintance named Mike Cinnamon, an ex–L.A. cop-turned-film student who went on to run a cattle ranch in Montana.
Who have you recently encountered whose name or life story felt too oddly plotted and specific to be real? Or: whose existence reminded you how varied, rich, and cinematic lives can be?
5. A Speck of Dust
Chengdu, China (a city I essentially know nothing about) is home to 21 million people.
What stat, proven fact, or measurable entity humbles you by sheer scale?
6. The Last Young Year
I am currently the age my grandmother always lied about being, or I suppose the final year she considered to be “young.”
When has your own age or mortality’s timeline arrived with reframed context?
7. Roman Empire-Adjacent
Cite a figure, story, or era in history that inexplicably fascinates you, i.e.: the gallery exhibition you’d fly to attend, the subject you’d watch a multi-part series about, Marie Antoinette's letters? The theory of Pangea? The year 1348? Egyptian cosmetics? Machu Picchu?
8. The Outdoor Shower
Describe your version of Sam Abell’s hummingbird buzzing by the outdoor shower: a simple moment in the last few weeks that you felt perfectly in sync with your place and the present moment. When you felt neither too big nor too small; just right.
The mood board:
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By luccastudio.co
What a wonderful list, and stimulating thought prompts. I love the bite sized nuggets of thought, that let the mind wander to explore a concept beyond the paragraph. It's almost more imaginative than a long-form essay. Thanks for the inspiration!
Best list yet. Thanks for digging deep and pulling out of the cave.