Day One Hundred Ninety-eight

Looking for the three marks in touching. I notice that the stone is impermanent; it feels different each session, different each moment. In fact there are no discrete moments with it, notwithstanding apparent ones that bring concentration closer. I notice that it is without self, without a separate being. Although it is a stone upon which to concentrate, it is only defined by non-stone, the other elements of air, fire and water (that is, it is still, cool, and not flowing). I notice that it is unsatisfactory, it tumbles over the edge of existence, it passes away, it offers no solace.

Yet it remains for a time, and I change. My sense of self is tested, measured against a little unwavering place.