36th of Spring, AV 513
Morning meditation, Shinyama Pavilion
Lu sat quietly alongside others, Syna's glow illuminating the interior of the training room. His eyes were closed and is breathing even. His posture straight and his mind quieting. The intention today would be detachment, as the world would deconstruct and everything else along with it. Thought was first. Dreams of training, faces of those he knew and loved, then those he met, then those he passed on the street. One by one they disappeared, vanishing into nonexistence. There was no Shinya, no Lhavit, no Zintila. No mother, no father. Home became the place it always was since birth and would be until death.
The body.
The sensation of flesh was probably easier for Shinya to ignore,as this sensation was natural to a Projectionist. The body was vital. It was also completely unimportant. The weight of it on the mat below and the gentle breezes passing over his pores ceased to be. Only the passing of breath eventually remained. It was the only time keeper of any worth to Lu. Without it, all other movements in the heavens and below were as worthless as tactile sensation. Silence of a much more intimate nature took the place of any aural reception. Stillness, like the air when no direction took it and it did not pass through lungs, between leaves. Presence became complete. The thinker of thoughts, the feeler of feelings, the perceiver and the doer became only machinations of something much more. Pure Being.
Time was no longer bells nor the dance between Syna and Leth. It became a concept, though one could not deny the presence of Tanroa. Nevertheless, if concepts were also machinations, what was left? Without forms, the formless.
Morning meditation, Shinyama Pavilion
Lu sat quietly alongside others, Syna's glow illuminating the interior of the training room. His eyes were closed and is breathing even. His posture straight and his mind quieting. The intention today would be detachment, as the world would deconstruct and everything else along with it. Thought was first. Dreams of training, faces of those he knew and loved, then those he met, then those he passed on the street. One by one they disappeared, vanishing into nonexistence. There was no Shinya, no Lhavit, no Zintila. No mother, no father. Home became the place it always was since birth and would be until death.
The body.
The sensation of flesh was probably easier for Shinya to ignore,as this sensation was natural to a Projectionist. The body was vital. It was also completely unimportant. The weight of it on the mat below and the gentle breezes passing over his pores ceased to be. Only the passing of breath eventually remained. It was the only time keeper of any worth to Lu. Without it, all other movements in the heavens and below were as worthless as tactile sensation. Silence of a much more intimate nature took the place of any aural reception. Stillness, like the air when no direction took it and it did not pass through lungs, between leaves. Presence became complete. The thinker of thoughts, the feeler of feelings, the perceiver and the doer became only machinations of something much more. Pure Being.
Time was no longer bells nor the dance between Syna and Leth. It became a concept, though one could not deny the presence of Tanroa. Nevertheless, if concepts were also machinations, what was left? Without forms, the formless.
He'll feel a bit off for the week following but it's nothing he can't handle. If you have any issues, please contact me!
