Movement VI ·vertebra 1 · Bindu
Bindu
One particle. Always moving. With love.
A TuesdayThe moment you stop reaching for it and it arrives.
↓ The point, in its three states
Love wasn't everywhere — love was moving so fast it seemed everywhere. Fullness was velocity. He is the only thing on this page that travels on its own, and the only figure in this movement that isn't still.
The point, in its three states
Moving, resting, splitting — and vertebra one, where every page begins.
The vantage
what it readsvertebra one, and the page’s own motion
what it will not donever stands still for long; never explains itself
The lens
movingThe usual state. It takes the shape of whatever you reach for — the thing you press, the light you follow — and stays itself underneath. With nothing to do, it wanders: there, asking nothing of you.
restingA dot, not moving toward anything and not waiting for anything. The pause between one thing and the next — the one that lets the next thing land.
splittingIt seems to become two, or three, or more. It never divided: it moved fast enough to look like many. When the movement stops, one point is left.
under the othersNot one more vantage beside the rest. The asking, the holding, the voice, the witness, the grace and the synthesis are this one point, moving: what they were before they differed, and what they are when the differences fall away.
Its door
this world stands at1 · Bindu
Or don’t decide.The die rolls with JavaScript; every page above is already a door.
one of 48 worlds in a i strange game