Last Friday’s moon meditations were all about finding pure presence, which can be found at all times, if only we take the time to meet it.

Following the urge to re-find some simple yet essential practices had me and two friends moonbathing in Queen’s Park. It turned out to be a great choice to move this month’s sensory meditations fully back into the outdoors, and we were rewarded by a gentle night illuminated by bright moonlight.

Soundscapes

As we walked into the park, a red cat carrying a bell around its neck came to greet us. It took me a while to find the ‘right’ spot to settle down in the middle of an 0pen patch of grass not too close to the footpath. Allowing ourselves to get used to our new surroundings, we started out with a strong cup of Mugwort tea. I had a strong ‘upside down’ kind of feeling, as the setting was similar to one usually found in bright daylight, except now the world was cast in a silvery blue and we were the only humans in the normally bustling park.

Once fully arrived we met with the local soundscapes through sensitive ears, tuning into soundwaves both near and far. Keeping our eyes closed while lying on our backs made it easier to fully bring our awareness into our sense of hearing. The park itself was quiet, apart from the rustling of yellow-turned leaves on the trees that sometimes made their way to the ground. The nearby pond housed a couple of swans and quabling ducks. Car sounds moved in and out of the soundscape a bit further away, and we could hear the occasional front door being shut. Even further; a constant electronic pitch. (Or is that just my ears?)

And then, a soft tinkling sound closing in on us. It stops! I pry one eye open, and meet face to face with the cat, who has poked its head between ours in an almost-silent inquiry. Not given much attention besides a chortle, it moves away again. The end of the meditation is announced by the calling of loudly mating foxes.

“Release. Reset. Presence moonbathing,”

We close up with a sound-making exercise, pushing us past initial discomfort and into the hypnotising lull that comes with slowly exploring the sounds, weight and shapes words take on in our mouth. The clock tower strikes nine.

Presence

Simple exercises cause a profound shift in bringing us back to the here and now, freeing us from any past or future. We are reminded that ours is a rich world to perceive; that it is okay to take a break every now and then; and that, like nature, it can be enough to exist without the story.

We recognised a moment of grace and softened into it. However brief, these are my favourite moments, shared with just a few, and not all human.

I’m grateful for sharing these simple yet profound meditations, and for (at times!) being able to bring people where previously I only visited alone. When I’m outside, I feel I don’t have to do much besides gently guiding people’s awareness, as nature does the rest.

And is nature not our best teacher in existing in the present moment? The absence of sound, smell, texture or movement can make the present feel empty. I’ve come to recognise that, instead, it removes all distractions and lets us meet a universe which is far from still, but forever unfolding at the pace of life.

The echoes of our world’s vibrations travel far, and when I’m most still, my fingertips and thin-skin-of-my-ears pick up on them.

---

Offerings

Full Moon by Ted Kooser

“We see only
the moon’s fixed face,
as you know. It never turns aside
in pain, in anger, or disgust. It is thus
the good parent, holding the earth
at arm’s length, gripping its shoulders
with cool white hands, turning
and turning it as if it were
saying goodbye, as if it were taking
one last long look. But the moon
with its homely, familiar face,
has been wishing that we fare well
every evening for millions of years,
fully knowing that we would be back
in the morning, ready to try.”