Breathing Space [100 word]

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Mind rippling memories that surface flotsam from submerged relationships.

Like an isle of a fragile-bordered self against the tide of self-ish shoals.

Sometimes tsunamic emotions flood the being in samsara.

But soon mounting the mast of meditation, the anchorite perceives his disturbance as just a storm in a porous tea-cup; he can surf this wave, to expand into the Ocean beyond Time and Space, momentarily.

Returning to everyday self, he remembers this outbody-experience dismembered into the elements; then restores himself to breathing wholeness.

Scrape off sand, smell the sea, savour sweat salt, sound this shell, insight now sun-light.

He's home.

He's home

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