What will the mind do, each morning, waking?
Confucius and you are both dreams, and I who say you are dreams am a dream myself. This is a paradox. Tomorrow a wise man may explain it; that tomorrow will not be for ten thousand generations.
--Chaung Tse II
Current-borne, wave-flung, tugged hugely by the whole might of ocean, the jellyfish drifts in the tidal abyss. The light shines through it, and the dark enters it. Borne, flung, tugged from anywhere to anywhere, for in the deep sea there is no compass but nearer and farther, higher and lower, the jellyfish hangs and sways; pulses move slight and quick within it, as the vast diurnal pulses beat in the moondriven sea. Hanging, swaying, pulsing, the most vulnerable and insubstantial creature, it has for its defense the violence and power of the whole ocean, to which it has entrusted its being, its going, and its will.
But here rise the stubborn continents. The shelves of gravel and the cliffs of rock break from water baldly into air, that dry , terrible outerspace of radiance and instability, where there is no support for life. And now, now the currents mislead and the waves betray, breaking their endless circle, to leap up in loud foam against rock and air, breaking...
What will the creature made all of seadrift do on the dry sand of daylight; what will the mind do, each morning, waking?
From the first page/chapter of Ursula K. LeGuin's "Lathe of Heaven"
Todays meditation is started here...
Moving on to here where I point to a paper that allows the possibility that reality is only information, then travels on it's way to contemplation of Hugh Everett and his Many Worlds formulation, via contemplation of his son, Mark....
And lastly a stop at the work codifying for science an ancient bit of knowledge, Dynamic inconsistency, which still fails to allow science to acknowledge change or relativity. Yet the codifying is important, I think it is at least, if still falling short of truly functional understanding of "real" consistency.
These are the meditation touchstones for this cycle.
Oh, and remember: (I wish I could remember where I first saw this sentiment) Your heart is formed, molded, of the afterbirth created from the delivery into existence of our star system.