Walking along the lane to the second meditation period. Six forty and light is in the sky, rosie red on the rim of the Eastern moors. Gazing around, the moors to the West are pink frost. All is quiet, not a sound, no bird song, not a hint of wind. So very still, whisper still. The moors draw my eyes further westward and then WHAM! what a surprise, the moon is resting on the horizon. How did that get there? It's a huge round orb, yellow-orange hanging in space, what a treat.
Morning moons are not sulky or moody like the night ones. At Shasta the moon over the mountain at night could have had even the hard hearted out writing poetry about loneliness and lost love. I just gazed at it in awe. But the morning moon, this mornings moon, had me wanting to scuttle back for my cameras - still and video. Silently I walked on congratulating myself for my restraint. Meditation comes first, the choice was clear, it wasn't a struggle.
This post is for the late mother of one of the monks. Some of her belongings and the contents of her food cupboards came here today to find a home. It's important for a deceased persons belongings to be cared for with respect and love. My teacher once said the belongs of the newly dead should not be lonely. By that I understood her to mean one should not abandon items out of hand but to give things a home where they will be taken care of. I have an old biscuit tin, which I love.
Perhaps it is good to remember not to abandon ourselves to loneliness. Just a thought.