Been back in city of Mindelo half a week. What was missing in my life? Prayer. I had slipped into a survivalist existence somewhat. Like the fast rising and falling Tropic of Cancer sun, the city, it’s lights, noises, did not seem to offer much in the way of night, morning, day, night transitional space. Similarly, the half hourly strictly regimented bugle calls from the nearby military camp dawn to dusk, the hand of man ( must ) prevail it must seem.
2130h. I could have just sat and sat, but nature called, strongly. Legs were so tired, but I donned my white flip flops and ambled toward the beach just 12 minutes away, with a little slightly scuffed book in my hand.
Moored ships in the bay, dancing sounds from the club along the Praia; all, beach, languid waves, bathed in the light of our many electric suns – hard amber rays .
But the softness of those waves and full moon light wove balm into the quietened core of me, as I sat, once more, at that place of love making, betwixt the land and sea.
‘ O Uncreated Beauty, I turn once more to your embrace. In homage, I offer . . . ” . . . my fortitude ” to you.
Beloved of my heart. Now in silence,
I open my arms and listen to your words of loving wisdom –
– in your sweet embrace I am lovingly restored. Beloved Beauty who binds the universe in one free bond of love, give me light to lovingly comprehend the mystery of this night –
– lunar meditation. ‘
‘ A Celtic Devotional ‘