At this moment, I am looking out the window before me and the silhouette of Mt. Tam and the ridges leading up to its peak are receding into the night sky; the last rays of Wednesday slip silently into the sea as an ocean breeze moves across the valley.

And above it all, framed majestically, is the sliver of the moon—hanging above the ridge; tipping in elegant angle.

The moon inspires poetry and brings to mind the sensual world in which I slip—the more vulnerable the more able to give and receive the pleasures of this physical, sense world.

And regardless of what human chaos or miraculous event I might be in at any moment, the moon continues her cycle of ebb and flow—from light to dark and back again. Full to new. She rises and falls… and stays steady in the sky on her cycle of life.

I can look to her and learn to breath; learning from her steadiness…

And is she ever boring, falling into stagnation of “sameness”? No, her steadiness is poetry and beauty and grace—and inspiring.

A miraculous night.

A wonderful moon.