If I were walking down a hillside path, somewhere out in early spring at dusk, and I heard the sound of voices coming from a house at the riverside, I would say to myself "I hear some voices coming from the house, but I do not know what they are saying." I would not say "They are greeting me" because I would not be close enough to hear. Neither would I say "I do not know what is happening" for I would know that I was on a path, nearing a house.
In meditation, I so often assure myself that I am incapable of identifying what is going on, or at the other extreme, presume to know something I do not know. Watching a hindrance like attachment to pleasant feelings or pleasant thoughts is more subtle than difficult. I forget where I am, or should I say I presume where I am, which is usually too far away or entangled.
I am probably always in a fine spot to be meditating. That is not to say that I am always in a fine spot for realizing Dharma... that would be like already being at the house, at the foot of the Buddha. But I am able to look out for my presumption, my manipulation of facts, my feints against what is unsatisfactory, my trust in passing things.
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