This evening I spent some time out in my garden, alone in the moonlight. I have a beautiful garden, fairly large considering the 1960s cardboard housing estate I live on, and full of plants and wildlife introduced and encouraged by my parents over the last 30 years. But I don't spend anywhere near enough time in it. I went out after my daughters were tucked up in bed, and strolled around one of the apple trees, then sat in it for a bit, before giving in and finding a patio chair.
The moon is not quite full tonight, but definitely plump, and yellow, with the slightest wisp of cloud in front. I sat and contemplated the darkening sky, imagining what it would be like without the ever-present glow of street-lamps. The evening stars would just about be coming out, making way for the millions and millions that follow. I managed to relax enough to stop worrying about the colony of slugs travelling around my feet. The slugs are like the earth - not good, not bad, but something outside of those concepts. They exist. They do what they are meant to do. So I attempted some sort of meditation, every now again jumping out of my skin when people passed by, or dogs barked.
When I came in, I thought, as I have done so many times before, that my life would be so much better if only I could remember how good that felt - to be outside, breathing the air, feeling the energy, relaxing with the world and with myself. If I could, I might do it more often, instead of sitting around zombie-like in front of repetitive internet games. So, to bridge the gap, and provide some kind of focus and motivation, here it is: the blog of Brigid's Pilgrim.
