Might we find a method in the sameness of all conscious moments?
If a mouse or a cockroach or even an amoeba’s every flinch
is filled with the same awareness as an enlightened master
then maybe all we need to do is watch without holding

Might we make a method of meditating on the gaze of a dying mouse,
concentrating on feeling the world through its glazing eyes?
Awareness like a very fine ribbon, so thin as to be nonexistent;
and yet there, lining the back of every moment

Might we found a method upon the back of a sad little rodent
we watched disappearing from herself on sticky paper with a dollop of seed butter in the center?
Yes, I think we could found a whole school upon this tiny creature’s pain.
But let us drop to a lower, a gentler level.

You breath in and out slow, stopping at the end, pushing all the air out; pausing there
Forget the breath for a moment and just notice awareness itself
It’s not a thin ribbon? It’s a nothing going everywhere?

Into the mystic
Into the pause
How?
Where’s the mouse I used to know, so happy to feel her little legs carrying her light-step across the pleasantly firm floor boards?