I can imagine a lot of uses for a rock, a lot of things that you or I or anyone else can do with a rock, I could study the geological processes that led to its formation, or I could analyze its chemical properties , or its physical and finally atomic and then subatomic properties, and the story would be endless, and I still would not have told anyone what is most essential about it.

I trace it back to the moment when I imagine or suppose or imply that it differs from the void or turns out to be coherent with emptiness, but this moment never seems to occur. Wherever I carry this stone, it returns all the more inexplicably. Nothing that I can do with It makes his pure existence less inexplicable.

I search for the reason for its existence and find it right where I find the void - nowhere. Philosophers and cosmologists know that such perceptions confuse them. Mystics know that they find it stimulating.

Henry Martin - 1987