Dear MR,
It started on my run, just after I decided on the shorter 8 mile loop. It was like that thing I used to do on the bus in 1st grade, rub my eyelids until opaque golden donuts appeared. The patience of watching the two ends slowly connect, the inevitability of completion, the inability to control it once it started. It felt a little wrong but was beautiful. Tonight this sensation came to me, uninvited, during my run. It started as two globes of light side by side, like huge headlights. The first thing I thought was sun and moon, or a pair of breasts. They were getting bigger and bigger, like an enormous truck on the highway. I recognized the sensation and could see the inevitability of completion. It was a little scary. I thought it could be a stroke, so I spelled my name backwards to myself. The circles grew, merged, took shape. When I closed my eyes I could see the pattern, already Buddha shaped, filling in. But I was still running. Even with my eyes open my vision was obstructed by the opaque patches of light. I was nervous. Finally I decided to enjoy it. I allowed myself to close my eyes for a few steps at a time, and it became fantastic, with ornaments and flashing lights. Finally, the shape came to fullness, fully opaque in the form of Buddha, with only one gap: a heart shaped hole in the center, slowly drifting. It was extremely beautiful. After the fulfillment peaked, the whole image slowly faded—I was sorry and a little relieved. Even now, maybe 30 minutes later, there are traces that I can see when I close my eyes.
10.20.20 7:19 PM