Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Two Hundred and twelve

The mind picks up everything and befuddles it, but only to a point. Not holding too lightly or too strongly are so helpful, and can at times pierce through all of the thought, in spite of a swirl of thoughts about what and where something is being held.

It's surprising how even a few moments of deep concentration bring every object into its resonant glory; colors, shapes, air, body, even thought become stripped of their confines in time and space; the mind lets go of them... although of course it lies in wait somewhere for beliefs to wander, drunken, into its wild and solitary field.

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