Rain / Plasma

I’m sitting here in unexpected rain, listening to my spiritual leader and our group speak.

Someone offers us a meditation:

“When you turn to the void, you enter the plasma field of creation.”

At almost exactly that moment, water gathers on the edge of the umbrella and splashes onto my right hand and keyboard.

Nothing dramatic.

Just rain. A sentence. A hand. A machine.

But I keep thinking about the strange physicality of being reminded that creation isn’t necessarily somewhere else. The void isn’t empty. The weather enters the room. Water touches the instrument I’m using to record the thought.

Maybe a field note is simply this:

notice what answers.