The size of the place made the back of his neck tingle with a sort of anti-claustrophobia, his innate understanding of the right and proper scale of things constantly mocked and undermined in every direction that he stared.

Meditative practice reveals that we are most fundamentally the opening of consciousness that watches thoughts coming and going, rather than the center of thought and intention with which we normally identify.

In learning to drive, walk, see or talk, in our very being, we are a massive interpenetrating collection of paths and routines worn by repetition; we are each a landscape, shaped by recurring patterns of force and formed by desire.

Time travel needs a self, and the self needs to travel in time. This formation of a story of the self, and a sense of that story developing through time, through incidents, encounters and events, in continuity, that’s the human trick, the one the other animals can’t do.

We want to rush past our bitter moments, to a place of facility and ease, we want to be old at this new thing, but rushing won’t do it. Only time and repetition bring ease. Then it’s second nature, a walk in the park.

Memory is shown to be not so much a library but more a repository of ready-to-run routines that enable our daily living.

The word ‘routine’ derives from ‘route’, itself deriving from ‘rupta via’, meaning a road forged by force, a forced and beaten path.

The act of recall is never neutral, and the emotions prompting the recall will shape the events recalled, mixing memory with desire.