Tonight's sit was a storm of forms arising from emptiness. (Except emptiness is form, and form is emptiness.)
The ticking of the clock on the wall.
The scent of someone's sweat.
Sirens of emergency vehicles, near and far.
Sighs and soft exhalations.
The chatter of my own mind.
The humming of the heater when it was on.
The fluctuating temperature of the room.
The aroma of Eiheiji incense.
The pins-and-needles burning of numb legs.
The dripping of the leaky pipe supplying the water fountain.
The flicker of the candle on the altar.
The slight smell of urine on a nearby cushion or the floor.
People talking loudly in the alley behind the building.
The shifting of someone in a chair.
And yet: simply showing up for the present moment.
And yet: simply showing up for the present moment.
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