A rabbit. A whale. A teapot.
She lay in the long grass, watching the clouds condense, coalesce, and collapse—to take forms before dissolving again. The verdant lushness enveloped her and time drifted away, like a cloud across a crisp blue sky. She pondered to herself how different were cloud rabbits from actual rabbits, really—both just a mental construct, a collection of concepts tied together by consensus, yet neither free from the constraints of the mind.
A gentle sea breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of salt. At the smell of the sea, she closed her eyes and found a deep state of presence.
Inhale. Exhale. Her belly rose, then fell.
It dawned on her that the fluffy cloud beings floating above—like the herself—weren’t becoming rabbits or whales or teapots, but rather, were always as they had been. Like moon which is always whole; perception is what reshapes her—the waxing and waning just smoke and mirrors. The cloud animals equally existed in perception.
The summer sun soaring above warmed her, and having given up understanding via division, she slipped into an afternoon nap.
