Because there was nothing to do, I lay down — and fell asleep. Woke up at 9:30am. Body stuck to the floor (sloth and torpor, as Master Shi Heng Yi calls it). Pinned under that familiar morning weight, another thought forms in my head: if I’m lying down and I sit up, I adjust. If I stand, I adjust to standing. If I walk, I walk. If I run, I run. No real difference — you just adapt. So I sat up. Then stood. Showered and came out.

The sun was blazing today, not a single cloud. So I walked. On the way to work, I passed the river and kept walking. At a construction site, a worker was directing foot traffic — maybe the same one as yesterday, not sure — but a nod came out naturally. I wondered whether he felt something good from that nod. The thought passed immediately.

Walking, I tried to hold two things at once: being the whole while being a part, being a part while being the whole, being everything while being nothing, being nothing while being everything — two things always coexisting. Sitting with that imagination, I arrived without noticing.

Afternoon, light work, nothing special. So — monitoring again today. But a thought surfaces: if everything truly disappears, even the noise of the mind — would it even be possible to describe what comes after? What would life become? Is that even the right question to ask?