I was thinking about my zen. It was like a child, I thought. I began to defend it in my mind, and speak of its qualities. My little zen is restless, intimate, confused, powerful but delicate, terrified… and suddenly the paper towel rack I was absent-mindedly pulling a towel from went SNACKT, clapping shut (!) and the paper towels fell, opening continuously like strange water into the abyss above the sink, falling into the wet pan there, soaking up my greed, the soap, ignorance, hatred — and not enough of my fear — as I startled, staggered, and lost all composure in the fluid expression of being destroyed all at once without bastion. It all just fell apart, right there, for a moment.

Shining. Startled. Scared. White flows. Gone.