There was a lunar eclipse last night. I didn’t see it myself – the paper had said the night would be overcast so I didn’t go out to look. But the next day I read in the paper that the clouds had opened just in time. The great event had been there for anyone with eyes to see – anyone, that is, who had not let the paper tell them to forget it, stay inside, don’t even bother. The paper printed a picture of the moon in eclipse: as the great shadow approached, it “turned a fire red.”[i]
Apparently the moon itself could catch on fire and some of us wouldn’t notice.
So tonight, on my last night of retreat, I took the dog for a walk. No eclipse tonight – just the deathly lunar brightness of a full moon. We walked to a point overlooking a valley; the fog had rolled in beneath our feet, and covered the earth with a glowing blanket. The dog lapped at water from a broken font. I meditated on a tree, black in silhouette. Then I turned to the sky, and breathed, and said a prayer: “Speak to me.”
This is what I heard:
“No, you listen.”
[i] “Well, the night I was born
Lord I swear the moon turned a fire red”
Jimi Hendrix, “Voodoo
1 comment:
I was lucky enough to see the lunar eclipse. I wish now I had simply sat and started at it for the full hour, instead of giving it a passing glance and then run around my hecttic physical and emotional life.
"No you listen" I like that.. listening is something my soul is yearning to learn well.
Miss you Matt!
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