I am aware how the quality and texture of my focus today (Day 2) is different from yesterday’s (Day 1). Yesterday it was finely directed like an arrow aimed at a single point. It was just breath. Today it is soft, diffused, and expansive. It is just space.
The sounds around me rise and fall. Planes fly overhead. Cars and trucks roll by, The heater gurgles. A water faucet runs. It begins raining. The sound of rain on the roof sends a shiver through my body. My ears go out to greet it. I feel its loveliness. Then I notice and make space for it. My ears return and let go. I let go of the loveliness.
Sounds rise and fall. My dog barks as only he can. Sharp and loud, demanding. A quiver runs through my body. I sense my ears wanting to turn it off. I notice and make space. The sound rises and falls.
At some point the rain stops and the dog quiets down but at what point this happens I am not sure. I am fully aware of sounds rising and falling but have ceased to stay with any of them. They rise and fall in this vast space inside.
