[The following is an exercise from Time Space and Knowledge]
I’m on a treadmill – the working one next to the broken one, in the small complex gym. A plastic garden chair, gray, sits in view behind a pool that seems like a sticker pressed onto a Colorform book.
Forbidden. The sun is bright today.
Legs move, attention leans back. Layers of impressions synchronize. I go somewhere, which I see only in retrospect. Fragments begin to stir, a thousand eyes darting about seeking points of concentration. Attentions are split, going as if (with?) the chair and staying as if (with?) the me. A million years pass, tumbleweeds roll by, before I wonder if it is okay to be this vague. If this counts as contemplation.
I feel the posture of the chair; my own changes.
Wonder whether to stay in the connection with the chair, or to write about it, which seems and unintrusive act, trustworthy for this restful oasis. But I reach for the phone amidst the gentle percolating of creative affirming thoughts, to find the moment already gone, before I thought so.
What is Reality? An icicle forming in fire. – Dogen