Day Three Hundred and fifty eight

Touching the stone I notice the singular nature of mind; perhaps not so much the effort to concentrate, but the removal of distraction and a simple awareness of how things are. The fact that an encounter with anything of any length is made up of discrete contacts gives some clue to the nature of mind, and it's arising with contact, it's impermanence at base.

At peace, I consider the losses of family, friends and myself. The losses, too, are made up of so many objects and events that have changed and gone.

Only their bows to change allow me to acknowledge them now.