bobbing along

03/16/2023 0 By BuddyCushman

Here is a line from this morning’s Koan: “A wind boat, having loaded the moon, bobs on autumn waters.” Here’s a line from another Koan: “A solitary boat without oars making its way in the moonlight.”

When I drive south on North Harbor Drive toward the city I pass 10 twisty, gnarled trees on my right. Out the passenger window. I have always called them “The 10 dancing trees.” I know in my heart, every time I pass and rejoice in their ‘thusness’, that they dance in the middle of the night, in those moments where there is no traffic, other than, I suppose, seagulls from the harbor, in search of an all-night diner, possibly morning doves, up way early traveling for their place on South Park telephone wires.

Dancing, ordering sea food, cooing. Ten dancing trees and boats filled with moonlight. I’m better off without the oars. When I’m simply bobbing along. When I know the breeze I see through the leaves of eucalyptus trees is just Gretel leaving another breadcrumb – here, here, here.

My never-met but still great friend Marie in Scotland, a wonderful watercolorist artist, writes me that she doesn’t often understand what I’m writing about – but she likes reading it. That makes me happy. There’s something compassionate in her taking the time to say a light-hearted, caring thing. I become a boat filled with moonlight, making my way through the moonlight. Something of a dance partner. Say, at 3 a.m.