Noticing the rarity and difficulty of direct touching. Directing the attention toward stone and breath, and having a few brushes with the nature of them. Noticing the subtle ways the mind expresses discomfort with being still, some of which are a typhoon of questions about my own abilities. Laughing a little at the notion that there is no single point, a pinpoint would be too small for the mind, and anything larger the mind would say is too broad. But of course, there is never a single point and there is never a moment in time. All wheels in wheels.
Then, being more with the objects of meditation. Appreciating a 'third person' sense of just breathing, and the whole world letting go from my fantasies. How rarely I have been with anything; mostly I consider 'contact' with things as what I am steering over.
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