I’m facing the computer screen, thinking and dreaming, writing an interminable book proposal, deep in thoughts about who we are, how we are, what we are. The cat’s asleep as usual beside my desk. All is in its place. Then there’s the key in the door and my son arrives. Suddenly all that had been so present is not so much « gone » in a flash as it is « suspended, » or « other: » His mobile telephone has been stolen.
Waves of a thousand emotions surge forth in me and in him, crashing chaotically. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Rage. Indignation. Impotence. Frustration. Righteousness. Pain. Doubt. Sorrow. Despair. Disgust. A desire to « know » what happened. As if « knowing » would undo what we know cannot be undone.
Then what is to be done is formalities, the « easy » part, the punching in of numbers and information, « suspending » what had been « his » so that the thief cannot benefit from what is « not his. »
Now, back at the desk, with the thoughts, words, cat, papers and books, all in its place, my son in the next room preparing his things for a major exam tomorrow, the sense of « suspension » is different, not isolated or momentary or sudden, but rather fluid and pervasive, as if the state of things, of everything, is always to be « suspended, » to be kept hanging, unfixed. Quite simply: unknown.
So then the question is: What is "monkey mind"? Who is the "monkey"?
That’s what I ment to say.
or is it that "not sewing » is a result or a symptom of what you call monkey mind?
I would put it in another way not to mess with the different meanings of suspension: not sewing is monkey mind.
So "not sewing" is "suspension" and "sewing" is "not suspension"?
There’re too many request during the day to work on it and late in the night there’s not enough patience or eyes to work on it…
What would it mean to "restore it from suspension"?
Pretty much like my Rakusu, keeps hanging from suspension to suspension, only that after the hectic part I’m too tired to restore it from suspension as it is too late in the evening