Day One Hundred and Forty Six

Touching takes me out of time, sometimes to where there is all time, all things. I notice touching before craving, concentration and I am no longer falling away from or toward anything. The past and future may be there but not in relation to the object and the body. I create no story, except for a little one about fear of letting go. In that one, I see myself letting go and worrying about what I might leave behind or not get. Telling myself this helps me to place myself in relation to concentration instead of this or that, instead of wanting or pushing away, instead of craving. I let go and the story ends. Here opens up from some center, an unmade fountain.