Watching the moon

Yesterday morning began like most mornings.

At 4:30 a.m., we left the cabin and started our walk to the yoga room at the top of the property.

We climbed the winding steps, passed the pond, and continued upward in the dark.

But halfway there, at the first perch, I stopped.

A full moon hung above the mountains, suspended in the sky as if it had nowhere else to be.

— The insight —

Instead of continuing up the hill, I sat down and watched.

The moon became my object of focus.

Not the breath.

Not a mantra.

Just the moon.

Two owls called back and forth somewhere in the canyon.

A rooster eventually broke the silence.

Then the first birds began to wake.

As the sky slowly brightened, clouds drifted through the valley below.

What struck me most was how little needed to happen.

There was no technique to master and no special state to achieve.

Just attention resting on what was already there.

— The shift —

Meditation is often presented as something we do.

A method.

A practice.

A system.

But sometimes meditation feels less like doing and more like allowing.

Allowing the day to unfold before trying to shape it.

— Heard this week —

“Some things can only be seen by people who are willing to stop.”