The Mirrorless Moon

The Moon of the Mind

Although seeing the moon of the mind,
in the great sky,
being deluded in the darkness,
I praise it for its shape and color.
—Dōgen Zenji

I awoke at 6:30 a.m., wide-eyed and anxiety-ridden—uncertainty clinging as heavily as my blanket. It’s far too easy to fall into the trappings of what-ifs—merely creations of the mind.

Similarly, how wonderful is it that we have realization within our reach—yet we believe it’s elsewhere, separate from ourselves. Labeling it, appraising it, admiring it as if it were an external object to find.

The cardinal I saw outside of my morning window, singing, with its beautiful feathered hue of reds and blacks and lovely notes dancing in the chill air—is it. Is us. Is me. The entire universe in a bird song—where there’s no song or bird. No me or you. Just this.

And yet, the cardinal going about its morning should also be praised for its shape and color (and song).

Gassho,
Koushi