Thursday, July 07, 2016


Our meditation group is using Buddhist-themed mental foci to concentrate on to reach bliss point—a wafty dreamlike state of presence (slash) there is no presence but the present. 

The most-recent foci was water. 

The foci was supposed to be us thinking of a saucer of water, and repeating the word "water" or synonyms there of whilst contemplating the water in the saucer but just the water without seeing its colour.

It was a tricky thing to wrap the noggin around. But it was a start point and many of us had drifted into our own concepts of what water meant. 

For me my water was a half-elf sitting cross-legged and staring into a disc-shaped infinity pool of a rippling, silvery liquid. What he was looking at, I'm not sure. I was jealous—he was slender and was sitting cross-legged, something I am not and cannot do.

I guess fantasy is so infused within that I fall back on those images because I lived and breathed that state as my escape during a childhood riddled with scorn and pain.

So it's a comforting to know my mind drifts back to where I lived as I child, escaping this fucked world for a far better one where I was most def. 

Am I using that right? Probably not (1). Kids ... and their music. 

Next is fire. Now I see a half-orc at a forge. See? It's insidious. My auto-drift is set to swords and sorcery and I'm loving every minute of it.


(1) I am not.

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