The thoughts kept coming, disjointed, from part in the brain that obviously did not belong to 'me' . . . Efforts to go back to the breath, over and over, seemed almost vain. Still, I kept at it. Inside was emptiness, not the kind referred to by the Buddha. No, rather a formless state, same one that prompted me to hug pillow in the middle of the night. A void, asking to be filled. Lots of craving there. Body was protesting also, with pain jumping around from feet, to back, to shoulders, to neck. . . Mindfully, I slightly adjusted position, several times. Relief was temporary at best. In its place, suffering. I turned attention to the heart, wondering what kind of emotions might lie there. Elusive at first, hiding under seemingly absence of feeling, I found, irritation, around the edges. Irritation about my inability to control monkey mind. Irritation about the big void. Irritation about the physical pain. Irritation about the irritation.
Greater than the irritation, and the wish to end, though, was the love that urged me to keep on sitting, and not abandon myself in the midst of extreme unpleasantness. I felt as if sitting with most dear friend. Leaving her, just when she needed me the most, would have amounted to a terrible betrayal.
There was something else also. The satisfaction from newly acquired knowledge, fresh from the direct experience. A deeper insight about the autonomous nature of spontaneous mind, and body, and heart, that led me to wanting to seek refuge into wise mind even more.
All in all, a most wonderful meditation.