Truly, the days slide past without what would typically be called distinguishing features. I may be endlessly fascinated with how the mind adapts, how generosity swells and even the smallest texture becomes monumental. I assume now that any blindness I may have had to texture can be chalked up to comfort or general malaise, or a tidy mixture of the two. Is there a term for that state? Entitlement? Or privilege? I would like to retain this level of awareness, this ability to sense slight environmental change. Need to change my habits maybe, more reading and get back to meditation, something like this.