Every time I'm about to get somewhere in my practice, there's a sensation like something is desperately trying to escape through my words.
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Writing, talking or thinking, it's like a car waiting on the inroad to a busy highway, looking for an opening.
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It inevitably fails, but sometimes when the breakthrough comes there is this sensation of release, of freedom, of letting go, of being gone.
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The tension held in the words collapses, the thoughts fold in on themselves, the writing flounders. Everything goes really, really quiet.
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When the silence is total, when the highway is empty, the car speeds off.
That's when the fun stuff happens.