Lunch pear. Even as I begin to focus on eating, I fly away to critical analysis of the pear, to being done with the pear, to losing the juiciness of this pear moment. I try just paying attention, but I struggle. I consider myself bad for not paying attention. I struggle with that, the feeling of whether or not I should consider myself bad. Then I struggle with that struggle. I let it all go, noticing the subtle attachment to what I wish were happening in every other way but now. For the first time, I eat a pear at pear eating speed.
As I try hard to concentrate on the stone or on breathing, I have little luck. I notice a subtle tendency to hold on to something, to hold back, to protect. I want concentration to be this way or that way, to bring bliss, peace, clarity, freedom. However, concentration is a castle without walls.
Later, I lay down in my room in the heat. My bones are like the stones, hard, smooth, heavy. My blood and organs are like water, my breath is a supporting air, and digestion is fire. I am amazed to be only that, so little to really struggle with.
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