One night past full, the moon rises
Over the tree to my east. A lot of pine,
Some oaks, four sycamores standing
In a row like soldiers on guard duty.
In walking meditation, I move slowly
Through the trees and out into the open.
Step by step, breath by breath -
Moonlight on my face, and finally
Looking up, in my eyes.
The Corn Moon, September.
May I be spared the illusion
That even one second belongs to me.
I own nothing.
There is only that which I do,
And that which I don't do.
The rest is an illusion.
Unlike a painting, our minds are not fixed. It is like the image is wiped clean and a new one is created every moment. While the next image will often be very similar to the previous one, it is never exactly the same.
When the Buddha walked, he walked without effort. He just enjoyed walking. He didn’t have to strain, because when you walk in mindfulness, you are in touch with all the wonders of life within you and around you.
-Thich Nhat Hanh