Day Three Hundred sixty one

I consider touching, and how I suppose it to be more immediate than seeing, but that is not so. I have had as much or more difficulty identifying what I am with, to stay with what I am touching, as I would watching an eagle from half a mile away, or considering a school of fish in the waves.

All of the sense doors open upon their sense objects and cross a mysterious gulf to get to them, to receive them, to be with them. In all cases what is made is conditional, a rough form that is then bent to our grasp.

And yet in meditation, feeling gives way to contact, which gives way to sense doors and the forms they open upon to give names to. Here, the captain is found to be brave, so brave that he need not wear his cap or stripes. He needs no name.