A couple of weeks ago, on the Solstice eve, I was sitting with a group of friends by a small lake. It is in a lovely wild garden, at the end of a short valley, looking down towards its length to the Cerne Abbas giant resplendent on his hill. I looked behind me up the green slope, and it really seemed as if the hills were encircling us, like protective arms. I felt as if I was nestling into the Earth's green bosom!

Although there were heavy rainstorms only a few miles away, and devastating floods in the rest of the country, the sun shone through the clouds and we could watch it setting through the grove of trees on the opposite ridge. The boughs were tossing in the wind, but it was calm and peaceful in the beautiful garden that Gilly created before she died last year. Wild flowers bloomed everywhere, and the air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle as dusk fell. We floated a few candles but they didn't float far away from the bank.

We sat, quietly remembering her and watching the reflection of the clouds in the still water. I was taken back to a moment last year in Kyoto, at a Japanese temple (after I had rung a huge temple bell and been shaken/resonated to my core) As I came to, I found myself staring at the reflections of the clouds in a puddle in the temple path. Life seems very pleasant when all one has to do is watch the clouds and follow your breath in and out.

Earlier that midsummer's eve I had been at work and very miserable there with the changing situation. I knew, deep in my heart, that that moment of misery was a wonderful moment and that sadness and joy are just two different takes on the same set of circumstances. Yet when it came to the decision whether to let sadness flow or stifle those feelings, I tried to do what Thich Naht Hanh recommends and welcomed the negative feelings. "Hallo sadness/anger/fear/whatever. Let me take good care of you".

My blogging friend Zen writes eloquently too about Everyday Zen. If your beliefs/ideas cant help you out of bad states of mind then they aren't worth following, in my book. But then, they must enhance good ones too - I am not going to do suffering just because it will help me be a better person (even if muck and compost does nourish plants).

I remembered Gilly's advice on our last walk together - "enjoy every breath" she said. And then I thought of Nell, who, last month - when I whinged about being told about my job situation on my birthday - said, matter-of-factly that she had got into some black states of mind recently. "So silly", she said, "even though I know it will be my last birthday" (she is terminally ill with bone cancer) "even then, its no reason to spoil a day with my brother who I may not see again as he came over from Malaysia especially".

It rather put things in perspective.

Later she showed me the Cloudspotter's Guide, a great book if you want to know about clouds. I went straight out and found one in the local bookshop. I'm only on cumulus, so far. Much more fun than geography A level so far though! But you don't need to know about things to just enjoy looking. Simple pleasures, as someone once said.