4

The knot in the hardwood floor panel becomes my world - my focus, my whirling thoughts, my physical pain, my questions...everything. I never knew it was possible to be so angry at a mahogany dot. My thoughts run in every direction, like roaches scurrying from a kitchen light being turned on late at night. I somehow have to lasso them together and turn the remainder or my mind into a large, empty void. Horses constantly escape from the heard: "Austin should be here.," "Is that girl a lesbian?," "Holy shit my legs and lower back hurt.," "What happens if you fart while meditating?." And then imagined conversations set in. I can't tell if the sweat is coming from the un-air conditioned Florida attic that we're sitting combined with the agonizing discomfort of remaining perfectly still for twenty five minutes, or from the challenge of completely clearing my mind.