Sometimes the merit of simply being there has incalculable benefits. Being witness. Allowing the sight to enter in. Just that. Just that, can bring benefits.

What is the difference between one who looks on, in the sense of idle curiosity, and one who witnesses? Well it has to be intention. I’m sure there has been much witnessing in Japan, however this image is most touching in it’s witnessing quality. Note the monks hand held up in a one-handed gesture of prayer (gassho).

So, what about watching the news. Watching all those images of the wave carrying everything before it. Watching as the power station exploded… Watching, watching, watching. Or simply bearing witness? Watching the news need not be mere entertainment – it can be an active offering. Of compassion.

Thank you to Michael in Canada for this link. And sorry to those whose comments I’ve not responded to, yet.

Spring looking in all directions
Nothing like spring flowers to bring a smile to the heart. And the smell in the air too. Country smells. And sounds too. Drying mud. Animal manure. Lambs calling. Birds squawking. But it all falls to the ground with a splash as the rain and wind returns, which it has in the last couple of days.

And as many of you know Jade fell to the ground for a couple of days too. I think it was a combination of web server trouble, and possible something I just might have done…possibly. Anyway, thanks to those of you who wrote letting me know the site was not it’s usual self. And many thanks for the tech help in Houston which has everything working just as it should.

Having the site down had me wondering just why I was so out of sorts even though I knew (had faith perhaps) that eventually all would be back to normal. And it struck me the downed site was the equivalent of not being able to unlock the front door of a Priory. Nobody could get in.

There is a ceremony we have where a priest essentially makes a promise to keep the door of the temple open so people can benefit from what’s offered inside. On a personal level I guess there is the wish or promise one makes to oneself to always keep open to what is offered.

Thanks for returning and walking through the door.

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.