I’m just sitting here,
working on being quiet of the mind,
“The mindfully quiet one” imagining my energy emitting from some pit just above my diaphragm. A small, white spark getting larger as I breathe, overcoming me, taking me in its bright cleanliness.
Now watching it rocket into a pillar, far into the night sky, as if it were a beam of light. I’ve seen it ark away as if it were reaching for some distant star. Some small part of myself stretching into an oblivion needle, arking through gravity and cold to point to another part of myself so far away.
If I looked at it from a distance, I imagine it would look like iron fillings reaching for a magnet,
building on themselves as far as their base would allow until they believed that all was close enough to make the leap between what they knew and what was foreign and drawing to them: some bright beautiful something, far off but close enough to pull.
Being a part of it, in the moment, It feels like a fire in the pit of my stomach, some unknown energy that is pulsating like neurons out into what some part of me wishes so desperately to know.