The Moon and the Lake in My Mind
In a week of too many things to do, it’s easy to get lost. It’s even easier not to want to be found. I see lots of folks feeling like that. Not me, no never, never me. Wouldn’t cross my mind. Wouldn’t happen like that.
I don’t get pulled. I don’t get stretched. I can handle the rush. I can handle the push. What else is strength of purpose about? It’s tied up in my need to show up, to find out, to be alive.
Does living mean we need to be strong, noble, and inspired every minute? Sometimes I do my work and think What do I do next? What do I expect of myself?
Then when I’m lucky, I hear music playing in my head. It’s an original melody. I know its movements by now. It’s a full orchestra — brilliant and breathtaking. It also means I’ll soon be going on a Zen walk.
I mentally grab my jacket. I put my wallet and keys in my jeans. It’s a quick good-bye. “Hey, I’m going outside. . . . Yeah, I know it’s raining. That’s okay, I’ve been wet before.”
I’ve no destination beyond the elevator going down. Soon enough, I’m out the glass front doors.
I walk south three city blocks. Three people jog by me on the sidewalk. Two more stroll. An old lady in a walker chair sits in the doorway of a stately building waiting for a ride, maybe her son, to pick her up. There’s a 30-something guy with a shaved head walking his big black dog with the caramel eyes. Lots of cars pass on Lakeshore Drive.
A neighborhood is where I live. I cross under the drive and come out by the lake. All civilization is left behind. Vast space, water and sky refresh my eyes. What a relief.
Sometimes I only need to change what I see.
I lay down my stress and look up at the sky.
The Zen moon in my mind enhances the symphony playing there.
Some folks say they can tell when I write at night. I bet they can.
People get more emotional when the sun has moved on.
I don’t have research to prove that it’s a fact of life.
I don’t need proof.
I have the Zen moon shining in the night sky.
