Saturday, December 7, 2013

Moments with the Moon

Moments of beauty flash before my eyes like someone spinning the Rolodex of my life. Choose one, Bhakti. Choose a moment. I close my eyes and the images speed up and whirl. 

Choose one.


My mind has landed upon one evening in the holy land of Mayapur in India. I'm wearing a light purple sari, and my bansuri flute is slung over my shoulder in its black case. Twilight has set in. I'm on the outskirts of Mayapur village, meandering my way home after a long day. I'm about to turn down my walkway when I halt in my tracks.

The moon. The moon hangs over a field of swaying green grasses; it seems to fill the horizon, full and golden. If I reached out my hand, maybe I could touch it. I've never seen such a moon.   

I slip off my shoes and walk out onto the dirt path that leads into the field. The dirt is soft powder between my toes. I walk out a ways and settle right to the ground. I pull out my flute. 

I play. I play to the moon. In my purple sari in the twilight surrounded by an ocean of grass, the moon is my giant companion. 

(photo by

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