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Location: a second-story deck in the hills looking east over the plains
Equipment: a lumpy brown zafu cushion
Practice: It wouldn't make sense to close one's eyes with a crazy-ass view like this. That's why this deck at Chez Manifest is reserved specifically for visualization practices involving the stacks of airplanes circling miles above Denver International Airport, the endless sea of the Great Plains visible beyond the faux white tents of said airport, and the imagined wanderings of American settlers straggling towards these mountains. Thousands of souls suspended by their sheer faith in Science over a vast ocean of dirt and cornfields, shacks and roads, dried blood and oil-stained parking lots... with endless bubbles of scenery-inspired "oohs" and "ahhs" hovering in between the rumbling angry stampede of clouds. It all hangs over a blanket of orange, green, red, and halogen-purple electro-bulb stars, and with your in-breathe you feel that collected memory-energy speeding through your veins at 65 mph, and with your out-breathe you dish out the wish-karma of the fur trappers and ranch hands and the gold-panners and one-legged ski instructors all wishing for better lives... And you watch it sail over the heads of sleeping deer and rummaging foxes as it flows back into the cities where the self-involved yuppies sleep....
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