Dear Sangha,
Amazing….here we are, already four weeks into our practice period. I hope you are finding this a time of renewal, of encouragement—a time to meet your own life, this one you have, all over again, and stop, and wonder.
Yesterday, hiking through a foot of soft, moist snow under the deep bowl of Colorado blue—the dry grama grass tips dancing their delicate shadows across the glittering white, and the whispery, pointy-tailed mouse tracks tracing paths from one spot to another, to another, to another, and the familiar rocks of the trail under deep cover, just hinting at their presence–I thought about the old Irish word, Imbolc, the word for the turning day that was Tuesday. Apparently the word has something to do with pregnancy, fertility, earth nursing the new-born sun. One source said the term Imbolc means “in the belly,” or alternately “ewe’s milk.”
And so it seemed. The sounds of the word “Imbolc” seemed perfect—the bright, entering sound of “im” and the enfolded, round, full and heavy sound of “bolc.” Heavy-with-life topped by shining-with-sunlight.
And I noticed what a blessing a couple of snow days can be. How suddenly being in a white, quiet world, where usual routines are completely disrupted and the usual landscape is covered altogether, makes me also different. How my story about my life slows to a crawl, so slow that like a recording on slow speed, it no longer makes any sense and I just have to surrender, have a cup of tea, stare into the white, not know what is next. This, this right now, is new. Different.
Shoveling, maybe! And the good tired feeling of slightly achy muscles well used. And then snow days end, and the pace picks up again. But a lingering wonderment runs along inside of it.
And this morning, waking early to go down to Shove Chapel for meditation, the moon! A brilliant sliver of light and the round dark belly of earth-shine, in company with sparkling Venus. The dark of the moon will be on Monday, Chinese New Year.
New moon, new year. And at Shove Chapel, we’ll have Community Night, and a time for talking about practice, as we did a month ago. Your Zen practice of real life, and the practice of your companions. What is proving strong, surprising, delightful, troubling, frustrating? What is it like for you, and what would you like to run by friends at this point? If there’s a reading you’ve come across that has been especially helpful, or a poem, a song, a painting, a happening—bring it!
Here’s a link that I found especially affecting: Jane Goodall.
https://www.facebook.com/cloakedtruth/videos/533079913532378/
Thank you for your presence in the life of this community.
Sarah Bender