There is a stream close to the cabin that seems to flow at different speeds according to its depth.
I think this is an illusion.
But the surface water seems to skip along, rushing debris of the season toward some larger destination. And beneath this current, a slower stream swirls trails of mud like chocolate marble cake. The top stream courses fast, the bottom stream meanders.
My mind would seem to work this way, too. ???? Top thoughts slide by in an unending tumble of free association. Bottom thoughts are ponderous, careful, barely worded.
When I sit to meditate, I notice these speeds. Just slowing down enough to watch my mind at work is satisfying.
But I move on through my thoughts until there is that timeless touch for which I practice when there are no thoughts at all.
I cease to think
I cease to observe
I am the stream
And the stream is silent.
Being is LOVE!
Chief Travel Partner
Thank you for sharing this journey with me.
I love you deeply, for in truth we are old friends.
We are One.