Rising Moonlight

Sundown over a strange day. Where will the moon leave me tonight, as he slides through the sign he once tip-toed on, as my little body took its first breath? Terribly hard to do the things emotions stand on the way of, and also so difficult to be interested on a day with a clean floor, little to do but what I’d rather not, and the sick dizzy feeling wandering around behind me. In the larger, more natural scope of things, it all makes sense, but navigating the rocky troughs of water between such shores of inner arrival is almost enough to make one want to rent holes in the barge, and end the tediousness of speculation. Another short-coming of the mind in practice: that of only possessing the capability to focus on one thing at a time, one reality at a time, one place at a time. Like a long and dimly lit gallery of paintings, the mind arranges reality in pieces it can remember, in encapsulated feelings it can readily access, and analyze cooly. What else am I looking for in this expanse of duty and work? It all seems so silly. Better maybe to just live another day, and embrace the ups and downs that will take me along a path that I trust and know has good reason. Self honesty is, after all, maybe not as difficult as self-realization, the one naturally following the other. But I sometimes feel like I’m hitting every bump in the road to the first, and a worn out being stretches out for relief in solitude or sleep or nothingness.

There are a few things to remember though, little beads to count when the going gets tough. I am, as ever, ennobled by what I can give to others. Freely, and from the urgings of my heart, as well as the gentle proddings of intuition, I’m left feeling not so alone, and not so deaf to the world I’m occupying. There is wisdom in Nature, and I can see the imprint of my own hand in her so clearly, thereby recognizing what still needs refining in myself. And lastly, most importantly, the Truth exists. It calls unceasingly, singing in cool, bracing tones, waiting with sharpened sword when I stumble towards It covered in the brambles I can’t remove myself. In It is a Love I can’t even rightly comprehend, even though I live by It’s Grace.

How silly again I feel, but not so despairing this time. The Moon has taken stage, cradled by saffron colored clouds and attended by stars in the East. Sundown over another day closer, another attempt, another mirror into the state of my being. Strange day indeed, but not so bad after all.

Print: Village in the Moonlight - Shotei Hiroaki