The mind was definitely flowing instead of ebbing while I meditated last night. The images kept coming to seek my attention. Thankfully no single image was stubborn. As they came, I found myself free enough to dismiss them. Also, when absurdly old and irrelevant memories began coming as images, I was aware that my subconscious had begun.
The mark of entering one’s subconscious is a distinct absurdness. Last night when I remembered (without trying) my route from college to my place from the mid nineties, I knew I had embraced my subconscious. It’s something I don’t think about ever. Getting home from college in a bus was an insignificant part of my routine so many years back.
The good part about meditations now is that the subconscious doesn’t have that strong a hold on my attention. Some detachment, some loosening of dream-shackles, has taken place. Now, when the mind suggests ‘let’s weave dreams together !’, I don’t find myself giving in.
The not so good part about meditations now is that I still haven’t been able to secure a unidirectional inward flow of concentration. There are still nights like last night when I witness a fair share of distractions from both my rational and my absurd mind.