Before waking, the feeling it must be time to get up soon. And it was. 0530. Dark. Hot in bed. We’d left the heater on. That’s a year of switching lights off blown right there. Sun salutations, half dressed, to a sun still hidden by the earth. Rain outside. Wash face, dress fully. Washing on. Sitting at my desk wondering why. Why am I up? Why have a job looking at a screen? Work for an hour then make fruit salad breakfast.

Later in the morning enjoying a job looking at a screen. The morning flew by. Talking about creativity. What is it? Something absolutely new. Also why I object to ‘creative people’? As if they have found some kind of answer. For as long as I can recall I’ve hated any kind of show off. Realising it is up to them.

Thinking next week of 0730 work starts, not 0600, and doing yoga before work. I’m missing that kind of in-touch start to the day.

Only when one can go beyond the bundle of ideas – which is the “me”, which is the mind, which has a partial or complete continuity – only when one can go beyond that, when thought is completely silent, is there a state of experiencing. Then one shall know what truth is.