7:30 Bells

Yesterday, in the babble of busy evening—getting dinner, getting ready for tomorrow—
I rushed past a window and saw the the pale full moon floating up the sunset. I rushed on—then stopped.

If I were in Italy, I thought, or at the Farm, I would seize the moment and step outside to look at that moon. Why not here? Why not now in the middle of "ordinary" life?

So I stepped outside, but never even noticed the moon. Across the street, the sunlight had already abandoned the winter-bone trees, leaving bare branches dark. Except one. One tree burned gold, every branch gold. Why, I wondered, why was the light shining on that one tree?

Then I knew. That tree was like me when bells are brightly ringing inside me. That tree was ringing with some wonder of its own. Caught by the stunning contrast of dark and gold, I began ringing too. There we stood, across from each other, the tree and I--both gold, both alight, both madly pealing.

LORE OF THE BELL: Ringing happens when you seize the moment.

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