Friday night in the U.S. was Guru Purnima, seen here in the west as the Buck full moon. The Sanskrit word Guru is derived from the word Gu, meaning ignorance or darkness, and Ru meaning elimination or removal. A Guru is someone who removes ignorance, providing light and knowledge to the student. Purnima is a term for full moon. So Friday night's super moon was also the day to acknowledge, celebrate and offer gratitude for our teachers on various levels in India, Nepal, and Bhutan by Hindus, Jains and Buddhists.
I was reminded of this festival and it's relationship to the summer full moon by texts from two different friends that day. Later in the evening I remembered the moon, and took a peak out my window. The pull to the window was timed perfectly. I saw a huge full moon, absolutely glowing. It was a soft globe, hovering over the tops of pine trees lining the street. The sky had just a bit of ivory haze, further softening the face of the moon and highlighting a dramatic portrait: large mellow round eyes, a long slightly slanted, bent nose, and a mouth in a gentle smile. Heaven's beneficence was smiling at the earth in these times of great need. I thought of centuries of tribes, communities and lone travelers who had seen such moons and how natural it was to feel it as alive, as a watchful presence. That night the moon was powerfully magnetic and magnificent.
On Saturday, I started receiving texts from others sharing their moon stories--all with the same amazement and spiritual wonder. Even though living in different time zones, and looking from different angles and viewpoints, it was as though we had unknowingly met one another at that moon. And despite our collective struggles with the Pandemic, weather disasters, climate change, and political conflicts, the skies offered humanity support. I knew in other areas of the globe, the Guru Purnima festivals were being celebrated. Gratitude was the feeling of the day.
A Zen story, from Paul Reps' classic "Zen Flesh, Zen Bone" came to mind: Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing to steal. Ryokan returned and caught him. “You have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.” The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away. Ryokan sat there, watching the moon. “Poor fellow,” he mused, “I wish I could have given him this beautiful moon.”
The moon, like the sun, is available to us all--expressions of the great mystery and beauty of life. They too are our teachers, our Gurus. Why not spend some time with them, drinking their light? (Susan Nettleton)