Some people are afraid of sitting.
They cannot run the psychological risk represented by the realization that, in reality, everything on which they rely, which has constituted their reality, has already collapsed.
As they approach the cushion, they have an escape reaction.
There is, however, a form of pre-knowledge here. A positive sign on the Way.
If they have such a reaction, it is because they know on a certain level that everything that makes up their life, their relationships, everything they identify with is eminently fragile, and would collapse at the slightest blow.
They protect themselves by keeping their distance from the meditation cushion, which has the power to actualise this understanding.

Wow…
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This is true of all forms of meditation. People know what they have, but they don’t know what they’re going to gain. This is the subject of doubt in the previous post.
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So, the cushion becomes the anvil on which the hammer of meditation shatters, and then remoulds, understanding.
Actually, I do fear that cushion. Primarily, on account of the effect it might have on my dodgy back…
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That is a very concrete fear.
Grab a sofa, then
and fear no more…
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