My darlings, have I ever shared the story of the Moon Flowers?

I used to grow them on a trellis against the backyard fence. Their blossoms were a brilliant white against the velvet sky — and nearly twice the size of a harvest moon. Curiously, they bloomed only at night as if waiting for the troubles of the day to subside.

For years, they’ve mystified the little ones in my neighborhood — who tried with all and everything in their hearts to imagine a flower they’d never seen bloom. For me, they always served as a reminder — that the dharma of the Buddha was not one of blind faith; that we must temper our speculation in order to see.

There is a delicate balance between faith and reason, my loves — one which tests are capacity to transcend that which the mind already ‘knows’. It is the basis and foundation of our spiritual discovery; one manifested through the energy of a simple curiosity.

“Life is a petty thing unless it is moved by the indomitable urge to extend its boundaries,” writes twentieth century philosopher, Jose Ortega y Gasset. He was referring to that which we consider our deepest convictions — marking the limitations and bounds of thinking mind. “Life cannot wait until the sciences may have explained.”

I tended those flowers with great care through the years, answering a multitude of inquiries from my little one passersby. One day, a little girl approached — she couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5 years old. “Why do you care for flowers that no one can see?” she asked.

It was a fair question, indeed. Though, one which required the same delicacy of care. As she stood there, I pointed to the first of the evening fireflies. “Do you see that?” I asked. “That’s a Moon Flower fairy, coming out only at night to grant you your wishes.”

Her face scrunched into a soured disbelief. As she scampered off, I hear her mutter — “Augh, always making up stories.”

The following night, I heard a ruckus near the fence. As I looked out, I could see the little one had set up camp next to the blossoms. She was waiting for the fairies, so that she might cast her ‘one wish’ — a wish that her Dad might soon come home. He had been deployed for 7 months overseas in Iraq — an eternity to the heart of this little girl. Thankfully, her mother was privvy to my story.

I pulled up a chair and sat with her until the first of the fireflies emerged. “Go on, make your wish — they’re waiting for you, darling.”

She closed her eyes, and drew a long breath — which, I must say, is a perfect wish-making posture.

At the end, she grabbed her flashlight and returned to her home. I was so proud of this little one for pushing past her ‘boundaries.’ Her father returned within the next several months, and I smiled knowing those Moon Flowers helped bring him home.

Yes, our faith must be tempered, my loves — but never at the expense of a full and open-hearted curiosity.

Namaste, my darlings ~ and here’s to the path that a deepened reflection forges.

❤️