Tonight, I find peace being alone with the moon, in the comforting darkness of home. I watch the moon take its time to slip higher and higher into the sky, pulling and lifting away the weight of my worldly burdens. The moon shimmers and glows, beckoning to me across and over the world below. It is a direct connection, unfailing and pristine, unaffected by the imperfection it can surely see from so high up. It has nothing to say, but just by being there, being perfect and beautiful, it convinces me that this cannot be all…this slaving, this constant gulping and adjusting, this relentless draw to succumb to the entrapment of emotion, and the impermanence of all things…Is this what believing feels like?