Day One Hundred and Sixty Two

Walking and concentrating tonight. I notice many things approach my senses; trees in the darkening twilight, the smell of the clay path, birds and cars, the motion of myself. I walk under the interstate; many lives go by. None of them are there, no trucks, no sedans, no bridge, no canal. None of it is there but for contact with my senses. But in not being there it is free, without time, without space. Even in contact, and even in feeling, there is a free reality, an open universe that does not yet need to be anywhere.

I touch the stone, the way of things finds me.