So I am next in line to read the book about mindfulness (and discover its title, author). But is it human to be challenged by the arrival of a book about mindfulness? As if the arrival of the book on mindfulness is also the arrival of a need - a lack? Perhaps I do need to be mindful. Or perhaps the book brings, rather than just reveals, the gap that it proposes to fill.
Never mind (sic). The barn door is open and the wind is sounding in the 'Woodstock Chimes Emperor Gong' (the name's stamped on it) that was a birthday present several years ago. Good to have returned it to its place by the door, after the long exile.