I agree to be here, 101% here. I agree to be my weight on the seat, to be my
age, to be my body. I agree to be this breath. I agree to be surrounded by the mind of a thousand gnat-like thoughts, and I agree not to resist any of it, not to try to
change one thing. And I agree to be the space in which all this is happening, without division, the seamless continuity of body, mind, environment, space, thought, emptiness, without distinction.
Do I have any edges now? Am I not the luminous center of an infinite
circumference whose only possible name is Joy?
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