Day Thirty-two

It is dark and cloudy tonight. My ears are ringing still from a concert last night. I am tired and shadows are sharp, lights appear in the corner of my eyes, sound is indistinct and therefore suspect in some way. I cannot tell what is true; my senses are not at much ease. Myself and the cat seem real enough, but am I in touch, especially if my mind cannot catch up with sense impressions? Why touch the stone? Why is anything here? Is anything here? And so staying with the worry for a while; it is just that, the concerns about existence of things are possibly more healthy than the wages I pay so often to empty hallucinations that really don't work for me in the end.

I can touch the stone. Perhaps I hear 'touch the stone with a pure mind and happiness will follow', as the Buddha said about acting with a pure mind. I cannot go completely around any problem to get to the stone with purity. That would just be a rambling stream that connects nothing.

I sense something that cannot be written, about the way things are.