Day Fifty-one

Sometimes, everything about the stone and me is vague. Touching is here, there, and around it. The point(s) of touch is not in my hand or at the stone, it is here and there, it moves. But that is as much my discursive mind picking away at the object of concentration. There is one point of stone and me, there is one touch. I watch my mind look for entertainment; there is none with the stone; there is truly no here and there, no touching, no nontouching.


Entertainment is never quite there, every agreeable occupation of the mind is either a fading fantasy or one promised to arrive. Mostly I just play games in my mind; "this is me touching or not" or "I can't do it right now but I can soon" or "I am here and need to go there". All of this feels planned, timed.

And there is no release even, or at least, release never seems to take the stage on schedule.