I touch the stone and consider its material form, and my mental image of it. The stone is going through its many forms, and is not the least bit solid; though it could break the skull of a crow.
I have the feeling of its qualities, smooth and somewhat heavy. I perceive it in the realm of many stones and what is not stone. Consciousness of it comes up, craving comes up. All of the mental processes come up and I see them as different from the stone. I consider the magic of mental processes; the life they bring through the ground of self, built over a hundred thousand points of touching, all compared and led forward by craving into a jungle of new formations. I suppose comparison has brought me here, always a stone's throw from death, a ripple from Nirvana.
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