They're bashing down the front door, mud all over the staircase, smoke. My new curtains, all my clothes, my Turkish carpets - I haven't insured my Turkish carpets. The first decides to watch it, as it s occupying so much of his attention anyway. It arises, reaches a climax and sharply vanishes. Another pain arises, vanishes.
Tiny sensations dance about, coming and going.
The second meditator thinks, Pain in my nose. There s a hair sticking into my nasal artery. No, it s an insect. This meditator is getting very caught up in the conventional world where you and I, people, fire-engines, church bells and noses exist. We cannot directly experience a fire-engine, Masons Lane or even a nose.