It was Friday night at about 11:30 and a beautiful full moon was out. It was a bit chilly and while I always enjoy my night walk with Abandon through Central Park, I was looking forward to getting home and into my warm house, whose electricity is now powered 100% by wind energy, which I was told would only add about $7 a month to my bill when I switched but seems to have had added an additional $30 or so each bill, which has resulted in me thinking, “Fuck the polar bears!”
Since it was pretty cold, I thought I would cut short my visit with my tree friend. I shared a few breaths and was going to go but was called to lean my back against him like I usually do when it is more temperate and just like the call to urinate or defecate, I couldn’t resist the call. Actually, I have resisted the call to urinate, like the time when the Six Million Dollar Man 2-hour Bigfoot episode was on and I had to take a piss but held it in for the duration, but you get my point. Uh, just in case you didn’t get my point, it was not that I can “hold my water, Cybil!” but that when something calls deeply, it is impossible to resist—unless a classic Bigfoot show is on, of course.
Looking up through my tree friend’s branches, I saw the full moon blazing away. I was suddenly drawn into the moon, the same way I was drawn into the guitar during one of the The Allman Brothers Band’s long jams when I went to see them at the Beacon Theater after I took a puff of the marijuana cig that was passed down my aisle. I remember thinking, “Maybe music and drugs are not such a bad thing,” soon followed by, “I love you, man!” eventually followed by, “I could really use some chips about now.”
As my vision locked on the bright full moon, the branches that were moving in the wind faded into a background blur of subtle movement. And my tree friend’s next lesson was implanted all at once, without the need for time or space.
He showed me that when one focuses on the light, all the wild movements that tend to occupy one’s attention essentially disappears. If we focus on the light inside of us, meaning our love and our passion, the little frustrations in life takes a back seat, for our heart’s joy is as entrancing and mesmerizing as the full moon. If we focus on the light in another, meaning their inner beauty and their child-like innocence beyond their idiocy, all the silly nuances that tend to frustrate us pales in brightness. He shared with me that it is not that the inner light inside of us or anyone else fades, but only that our focus shifts from Truth to distraction.
The lesson was done; my tree friend didn’t need to expand on what he had shown me so simply and clearly—and I was glad, as it was a little too cold to be listening to a long dissertation. As I walked away I thought about all the “branches” I had focused on and how many “full moons” I had been blinded to instead of blinded by.