The moon is mirrored
in still water.
In waterfalls and rapids.
In the churning rush to the sea
the moon is lost.

It comes like dusk,
the wind dies on its own.
Solitude gathers it.
It breathes in silence.

The Water, The Moon
do not strain for perfection -—
in quiet stillness
peace and harmony appear.

Muddy water becomes clear
if left undisturbed.
There is no effort
that brings reflection.

- Heron Dance/Roderick Maciver

. . .

Today’s poem is a reflection on a passage in the book 365 Tao: Daily Meditations by Deng Ming-Dao. It is my favorite passage from the book.

If waters are placid, the moon will be mirrored perfectly. If we still ourselves, we can mirror the divine perfectly. But if we engage solely in the frenetic activities of our daily involvements, if we seek to impose our own schemes on the natural order, and if we allow ourselves to become absorbed in self-centered views, the surface of our waters becomes turbulent. Then we cannot be receptive to Tao.

There is no effort that we can make to still ourselves. True stillness comes naturally from moments of solitude where we allow our minds to settle. Just as water seeks its own level, the mind will gravitate toward the holy. Muddy water will become clear if allowed to stand undisturbed, and so too will the mind become clear if it is allowed to be still.