How often I treat meditation as a way out of pain, I say to myself "this will bring release from my attachments", with the attitude of non-acceptance of things as they are.
There is no time, there is nothing better, there is nowhere else to be. Yet the stone is a center, like a little writing desk I have made to supplicate inspiration. Every article of faith sinks into the ground with the rain. I let go my grip on waiting, my long count.
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