I struggle over my daily 500 words. The words are there as always, but this stuff is too raw and dangerous, even for me. I resolved to blog every day, at least until the end of the month, but suddenly I am no longer confident in that anonymity which used to open the gates and let my soul out into the words.

I stumble to 500, and think, I will go and meditate, then come back and read what I have read and see what I can salvage. I go downstairs, and through the curtain over the small window at the top of the front door, I see the full moon. I open the door, step outside. The moon seems to radiate cold as the sun radiates heat. Even as I watch it, I am conscious that I am forming it into words, thinking of how I will express it. I pull my dressing gown closer, watch the bare branches of the tree grasping towards the white light, listen to the blackbird singing.

Back in the house, I light the candle and incense, open the curtains wide and position myself to see out of the window. It takes a while to settle myself, trying to get the posture right, fretting my brain, fidgeting, I remember I haven’t switched the coffee on, go to do that, I notice the time, later than I thought. But I will do this. I have made a commitment.

I start the tape and watch the moon, mocking me, enticing me through the glass. I will conquer desire and find equanimity. Focus on the body, when thoughts arise, congratulate yourself for noticing what has happened, then gently bring the attention back to the part of the body we are giving attention to. Toes, ankles, shins, calves, knees… where have we got to again? Close the eyes, the candle flickers, dancing past closed lids. Open them, the moon is there, watching through the window.

My mind is busy with these words. They need to be written down, there is urgency in them. Find a notebook. No, they will stay, they will still be there. Trust me. Just take this time of quietness, and all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.

The tape sputters. The batteries have died. I will sit in silent meditation. How long? How will I know how long? Breathe. Watch the candle.

The moon smiles at me. I blow out the candle and pour the coffee to bring back upstairs.