I meditate to transform my experiences. What does it mean to know transformation?
I have become more familiar with the subtleties of the breath’s sensation – this is the most communicable transformation. It is easy to imagine an increase in awareness in nuances of sensation: the spectrum of a painting, the textures of a carpet, the timbre of a violin. The words point to the distinction: “green” and “yellow” indicate a continuum between them, and any mind that has known the changes in the autumn’s leaves may know this before a heartbeat.
The topology and exploration of introspection (i.e. the activity, not the space) challenge their expression. The mind differentiates knowing and experiencing, a far more subtle species of Molyneux’s problem.
There are storms whose ferocity are brokered by attention. There are landscapes that are consumed when seen, absorbed by their traveler. The watcher may watch the watcher, and know that sight is the paradox of a blind event horizon.
Levinas says that one must always demetaphorize the very metaphors by which one has just demetaphorized the metaphors. He is left with a singularity. I am left with a moment that was passed and never grasped.
