Staring at the Moon (& drinking Baileys)

Ever since I was a little girl I've been fascinated by the Moon; the way it glows so brightly in the sky, sometimes just a sliver, sometimes huge and round like in the stories. I love how sometimes you can see it so clearly you can make out the dark spots and the contours, how it can seem so close one day and so far the next. But most of all I love the fact you can see it no matter where you are in the world. It is a constant, a tracker, a way of keeping in touch with those you love and miss even when you can't be with them.

In January I went on a meditation retreat to Scotland. Admittedly, I hadn't set out to do this; I had actually been looking into writing retreats when I stumbled across it, and given that I've always had a desire to learn more about Buddhism it seemed an opportune thing to do. When I first arrived I was pleased to find the others were all pretty normal rather than raving, chanting hippies, and I enjoyed the chance to be with people in the context of a shared interest. Each day there were teachings and meditation sessions in the little adjoining meditation room and, whilst I found the whole thing fascinating, knowing myself as I do (with my constant worries and preoccupations), deep down I didn't really think I was capable of 'losing myself' in meditation.

On the second day we were told that after that evening's meditation session we would have complete silence until the following morning. I have to admit my heart sank. Suddenly it seemed that this was to go the way I had expected, I felt out of my depth and wished I could better push aside my neuroses and meditate the way I was supposed to. That evening, after dinner, we somewhat trepidatiously filed into the meditation room, got into position on our cushions with our blankets wrapped around us and began to meditate. To this day I don't know how I managed it (I never have done since), but after about fifteen minutes of concentrating on my breathing and trying to push the constant barrage of thoughts out of my head, my mind suddenly went quite, quite still. When the bell rang to indicate the end of the session I felt an incredible rush of peacefulness, which carried through as I walked outside and down towards the loch at the bottom of the gate. Several of the others followed suit, and we all just stood there, silently looking up at the moon which was full and totally unobscured in the cloudless winter sky.

I don't know what it was that I felt in that moment, whether it was simply a state of total relaxation or a spiritual experience, but I do know that the feeling I had then is what I have been striving for ever since, perhaps even what has led me to where I am today, about to head off into the unknown for eight months by myself.

"Religion" is a contentious subject these days, "spirituality" even more so. Many people believe religion is the root cause of war, and when you look at the atrocities that take place around the world in the name of religion, it's easy to see why. When you throw the Catholic church with its antiquated laws into the mix you get a picture that is the antithesis of the modern, forward-thinking and accepting society we have come to believe we are. I can quite see why people want to break with religion, relegate it to the past and accept it is an outdated concept. I can also understand why more and more people are branding themselves "atheist" and adopting the attitude that science, rather than religion, holds the answer to why we are here.

But no matter what 'evidence' is put in front of me to the contrary, when I stand outside my house on a crisp November night, Baileys in hand, and stare up at the Moon, I remember that feeling I had in Scotland; the rush of adrenalin, the sense that something far bigger than us and way beyond the realms of our comprehension - with or without science - is responsible for this wonderful thing we call life, and I just can't shake it off. I can't quantify it, I can't explain it, it's just a feeling inside me. Call it religion, call it spirtuality, call it what you will, it is my belief that we were put here for a purpose, that the world and all the people in it are too wonderful to be the result of a 'lucky' turn of nature. Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, maybe there IS no right OR wrong. But there IS something. And that something is simply mindblowing. That something is US. And what amazing creatures we are.