The pink of morning is returning to the sky. I am reminded of the children's book Heidi where Grandfather explains to her this wonderful parting gift from the sun, a blaze of color we remember through the night.
I just read a short story from this week's New Yorker. The story is called Night Train to Frankfurt and is by Marisa Silver. What is startling to me is that the story is about a 57 year old woman who is dying of cancer. I read the descriptions and picture someone older than I.
Death seems to be with me these lengthening nights. I can't help comparing each day to last year when I was so afraid. Now, here I am, delighted to be planning Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone I love is doing well. I am doing well. These are magical times.
The piece I was looking for from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche is on p. 72 and is this:
The Mind in Meditation
What, then, should we "do" with the mind in meditation? Nothing at all. Just leave it, simply as it is. One master described meditation as "mind, suspended in space, nowhere."
There is a famous saying: "If the mind is not contrived, it is spontaneously blissful, just as water, when not agitated, is by nature transparent and clear." I often compare the mind in meditation to a jar of muddy water: The more we leave the water without interfering or stirring it, the more the particles of dirt will sink to the bottom, letting the natural clarity of the water shine through. The very nature of the mind is such that if you only leave it in its unaltered and natural state, it will find its true nature, which is bliss and clarity.
I agree and have understood this and now I understand, also, the richness of that dirt in the bottom of the glass, the mud from which things grow.
There is also a sobering article in the New Yorker on how we are changing the oceans with our emissions. There is still time to avert catastrophe. May it be so!
The company Chris so joyfully works for, Powerlight, was just bought by SunPower, a good move for the world of solar energy. I am thrilled with our day sun, and awaiting, now the stars, our companions suns of the night.