Finally, We’re On The Way Back

The Shortest DayLast Saturday was the shortest day of the year here in the UK and strangely, some may say, it’s my favourite day of the year. Why, I can hear you asking, isn’t the longest day of the year more favoured, all those lovely hours of daylight, and often sunshine too? Well it’s because today marks the nadir of the year in terms of daylight. From now on we get an extra minute or so more light each day, and that’s something to look forward to.

Daisaku Ikeda has some very wise words for these long dark days, and offers a welcome ray of hope …

“Even if today may seem to be a time of total darkness, it will not last forever. The dawn will surely come if you advance, ever forward, without being defeated.

The day will definitely come when you can look back fondly and declare, “I am savouring this happiness because I struggled back then.” It is those who know the bitterness of winter that can savour the true joy of spring.”

~ Daisaku Ikeda

Shorter Days

Lighting The WayCycling to and from work is doing me a power of good, though I am beginning to wonder just how much longer I can do it before the ever darker mornings force me to change my route, or invest in some serious lights.

This morning, although sunrise was officially 5 minutes before I set off, it was still quite gloomy and there was also a light sea mist, so it was blinking lights front and rear, all the way to the office.

Whilst the current lights do a very fine job of signalling my presence to other cyclists and road users, the front light won’t provide sufficient illumination to ride safely up the Castleman Trailway, the beautiful tunnel of trees that takes me from Creekmore, all the way to the top of Gravel Hill.

Even the cycle path alongside the A31 has its fair share of interesting challenges. Tree roots, raised manhole covers, lumps, bumps and wonky kerbs all serve to keep the riders attention, even though it is a great deal safer than jousting with the traffic. In daylight, they are inconsequential, but in the deepening gloom, they could present a problem.

So do I succumb to the shortening days, put the bike away until next spring, or make the necessary purchase to allow me to continue? The Dark Passenger, my fundamental darkness, is telling me that it will soon be much colder, wetter, that the car would be so much more comfortable. He’s right, of course he is, but I am determined to stay fit and not reverse any of my hard-earned weight loss, so where’s that Wiggle website?

Just Before Dawn

They say that things are the darkest just before dawn, but I would suggest that this is not always the case. When people are under intense pressure, as we all are at the moment, that darkest moment can come at almost any point.

Our Fundamental Darkness, my Dark Passenger, can have a field day when we are tired, emotional and stressed out by Ivor’s situation. Whilst the trick is to keep a wary eye on the little devil, it is also of paramount importance that we maintain our compassion for each other too.

Ivor remains comfortable, sedated and pain free, but there cannot be any improvement, so we are still keeping our 24 hour bedside vigil, supported by the marvellous staff at Frenchay hospital. Although Ivor is not a Buddhist, his wife Jill is, so please send Daimoku, if you can, to help her through this most difficult of moments.

Nam Myoho Renge Kyo

Chanting In The Dark

Chanting In The DarkI don’t know what it was that woke me early today, maybe it was the rocking of the boat, or maybe the sun shining in through the cabin window. Whatever it was, I dressed quietly and left the others sleeping soundly.

The stillness of the morning air was quite magic. I walked down the towpath, away from the boat and towards the Whitehouse tunnel a few hundred yards away. There were birds singing in the trees and an earthy smell from the wet soil, it was all very calm.

As I entered the tunnel I started chanting, quietly at first, then louder and louder. The tunnel is about 200 yards long and I could see the sunlight shining in at the far end. But as I got deeper and deeper inside, I could not see the towpath, my feet, even my hand in front of my face, other than by silhouetting it against the half circle of light ahead.

The resonance of my chanting got louder and louder and it got darker and darker. I could not see where I was walking, so I trusted in my senses and in the engineering expertise of the people who built the tunnel all those many years ago.

It struck me that walking through that dark tunnel was a little like my faith in my practice and in Nichiren Daishonin who had laid the path before me. Like the light at the far end of the tunnel, we walk forward, trusting our steps will rest on solid ground, towards the enlightenment we seek. We are never disappointed, the way is solid and supports us in our quest.