When a stand of trees are cut down, they are absent. When a stone wall falls, it is absent. There is a hole where once they were. Not quite like a death, but close.

Yesterday I had the great pleasure of meeting with my two cousins. They are my closest living relatives. It turned out we had never been together in the same place before. One had been absent when two had met. But, for all that, it didn’t seem odd or strange to be all together. We fell into easy reminiscing about our respective parents. Now all dead.

Talking on we realized that there were most likely absent/unknown relatives aplenty. In Canada. And in America too. I now sit and imagine a stand of relatives. And friends. Not dead, just a hole where they might be. Unknowing of one another.

Absent/unknown relatives. Lost touch with. Gone away to a new life. Perhaps absent animal friends too. Ones that just got lost. Ran away. Went away. Never came back.

Here’s to absent friends. And relatives too.

There is a general understanding, perhaps in the East anyway, that monks are back in the monastery by night fall. That certainly makes sense for safety reasons alone. My mind can run riot on the possible dangers of being out after dark. Tigers, holes in the road, robbers, run away ox carts! Even with relatively safe streets and good lighting I tend not to be out walking at night. Of course there are times when I’ll be driving late into the night but that’s a different thing.

What’s that? I started. Seeing in the gathering gloom something sticking up on the side of the road. No worries Rev. Mugo, it’s just a telephone pole. My female walking companion responded. As we walked and talked the moon, possibly a full one, rose ponderously from behind the hillside like a giant balloon. But we had to turn around and head home, regretfully turning our backs on the moons yellow glow. It illuminated our way as we chatted on. When people ask to talk informally I like to walk and talk with them. If they are up for that. Four walks and talks today has left me a tad achy.

We carried our own yellow glow in the form of yellow reflective vests and arm bands. There are generally few cars on the lane below the monastery. Then out of the blue a car zoomed up, coming to an abrupt halt in front of us. Uh Oh! Out after dark, not a good thing. I thought. But it was nothing just a couple of chaps, seeing our reflective gear, asking if we were Marshals for the car rally! Later in meditation we heard a few cars zooming by.

A monastery or place of practice such as a small temple or as we call them priories are representative of going within, sitting meditation. There we are gathered together or alone at home, sitting within the velvety darkness of meditation after the light of day is done. The light of activity gives way to reflective night. So the dark of night is calling us home. To our sitting place.

Of course one would not be out after dark! Lurking lions and tigers or no.

One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The latter procedure, however, is disagreeable and therefore not popular.

Carl Jung

What is it to make the darkness conscious? Not a procedure I think. Today discomfort, disturbance, emotion. All and more. The world trembles. Tosses and turns this way and that. There is no avoiding the shock waves. We, each of us, absorb the reverberations. All the time. I believe we cannot be anything other than conscious in this way. Dark and light. Together.

Well, what do you make of this! Stunning to think that we too can erect walls which have no substance, within which it is so easy to remain. Even with the lure of squeaky toys to entice us!