The full moon wakes me up. 

I went to bed early tonight.
Woke up in the middle of the night,
turning and rolling in my bed. 

Might as well sit. 

It's too dark to see my reflection. 
I do trataka with the lights
on the other side of the lake.

The warm temperature brought back
the cedar bugs. Although I don't see 
them in the dark, they are definitely
part of the meditation. Crawling in my
prayer shawl, flying around, landing on 
my hands. 

Like the cedar bugs, my mind is busy. 
I've been sick for a few days now. 
I lost my sense of smell again. 
I've been sitting for too long this
weekend. My hips bothers me. 

The lights on the other side
of the lake provide a perfect
point of concentration. The trees
on the beach vibrate against the
darker lake. I don't see the moon 
yet, still behind the cloud. 

I'm torn between being part of 
the world and disolving into my
practices. Everything seems to have
a karmic weight. Learning something new
would bring about more attachment, 
more dependance or more association
with the illusory world. At the same time
this life is beautiful and being part
of the dance is one of the pleasure of life. 

Creating a reality and positioning 
myself into this reality solidify the 
sense of the ego. In the field I am working in
and with the communities that I see 
online, it seems like there are always
new way to entangle myself deeper in 
these meaningless mind puzzle. 

Lets learn to program AI, lets develop
a new algorithm that could create music
or video automatically. Lets gather around a new
programing language so that I can justify
my time online, and classify my worth
by comparing myself to other within that group. 

This entanglement seems futil. It only feeds
yet another habit. A habit I will want to get
rid of when it starts to take too much 
space in my mind and my life. Why even start?

But what is left after letting go of all that?

The sky clears up. I see a couple stars. 
I wonder about the subject and the object. 
How do I see myself? The mind swings between
both concepts. Being a subject I need a name
a place, a role. Being an object, I am part
of a greater whole. The I disolve into the 
background. I feel observed. 

The light I am focusing on from the other side of
the lake starts to move. Maybe I was looking
at a car? The other side of the lake is a couple
kilometer away. The light keeps on moving right
but never arrive anywhere. I come out of 
trataka. Is it really moving? 

I want to write. That desire takes me out
of my meditation. My hips hurts, maybe kneeling
will be better. Kneeling leads to standing,
so I decided to write. I wonder if even 
writing is taking me out of my own process...

The stickiness attraction of the world 
pull me into another fantasy. I wonder
if I can be both, subject and object. 
Playing in the dance of Maya, the illusion
while at the same time liberating the self.
Enjoying the pleasure of attraction, addiction
while observing how I can free myself. 

Is that the tantric path?