There is only one meditation, avowed the coal-eyed chain-smoker—the adamant refusal to harbour thoughts.
What gives existence to stars also makes words comprehensible: the space between them.
A man I know tells me that he has resigned from the results committee. This is a recommended action. The Gita puts it plainly: “Take no thought for the fruits of your actions.”
We see nakedly when we see without thinking about what we are seeing, when there’s no screen of mentation separating seer from seen, when for a moment the subject/object split is healed. Babies and other new life forms see nakedly. First, their faces open as if they are seeing something miraculous. Then they smile. If the new life form is a puppy, it licks our faces with a giddy avidity. They are thrilled, I tell you. Thrilled.
Intelligence bubbles up, seeks release, finds it in the space between two thoughts.