as motion — and this seems to be the best that I can offer by way of description. Yet it doesn’t quite capture things either, leaving an image of objects shifting, streaming, to the point of new locations. To say that I find myself as motion is to imply a self that exist as something actual, lasting, remaining true in some original form.
there’s nothing like that here.
the truth is that I don’t find myself, and that I’m unable to make a claim of any sure location.To say that I am emptiness denies the objects of my world, my solid sense of being present to the touch and view of others. Just as certainly I am not limited to any form, and this includes thoughts, beliefs, and even conscious states that seem to hint of deeper realities to be known.
I don’t find myself anywhere.
it’s with this that I return to motion — picture a wind that only seems to settle, and in the briefness of its imagined stay becomes a world entirely of its own. Everything here is ethereal, made only by the dream of wind, and always found in motion. This is how I find myself, a briefly settled wind never lasting in its value, continuous, and aware only of its motion. There is no lasting world beyond this moment, no wind that ever truly settles. I never really find myself…
but know exactly where I am.