A touch, widened through the air until there is no edge, and back

1. A fingertip on what you chose. Feel it exactly. Touch the screen.
2. Now feel the clothes on your body, everywhere they touch. Touch.
3. The ground under you, holding you up. Touch.
4. The air on your skin: the face, the hands. Touch.
5. The air of the whole room. Touch.
6. The wind over the land, touching everything. Touch.
7. Wider, until there is no edge between the touch and the one who is touched. Stay in it.
8. When it is silence, hold, and stay.
9. When you are ready, hold again. Back through the wind, the room, the skin, the ground, the clothes. Touch as each comes back.
10. The fingertip on the cloth. You are back.

• The way back is always one hold away, or the button at the top: it never leaves you in the middle.
• Eyes may stay open.
• If the body aches and a touch on it hurts, stay with a cloth or a stone in your hand. That is a whole practice.
• If the pulse frightens you, stay with the breath at the nostrils.
• Nothing sharp, nothing hot. The touch is to be felt, never to hurt.

Sri Aurobindo, to someone afraid of the emptiness that came in concentration:

Consciousness is not dissolved; it is the limits of the consciousness that are dissolved.

Letters on Yoga III, CWSA 30, p. 276

This is the journey of Nādamaya with a touch instead of a sound, made at Jyotirgana from Arjun's own description. Its widening goes through the air, because that is where Sri Aurobindo places touch. This form is ours.

It has not been tested. We claim no result from it.

the paper →

Sri Aurobindo, reading Gītā 7.8 and 9 in his Essays on the Gita:

“I am taste in the waters, sound in ether, scent in earth, energy of light in fire,” and, it may be added for more completeness, touch or contact in air.

Essays on the Gita, CWSA 19, p. 272

Sri Aurobindo, in A System of National Education (1910), on how a teacher helps a child to know a flower:

His touch should assure itself of the texture and its peculiarities.

Early Cultural Writings, CWSA 1, p. 404

sarvasrotonibandhena prāṇaśaktyordhvayā śanaiḥ |
pipīlasparśavelāyām prathate paramaṃ sukham || 67 ||

All the senses' streams held, the breath rising slowly: at the moment of a touch like creeping ants, the highest joy spreads.

In an old book of such practices, the smallest touch is a door.

Vijñāna Bhairava 67, in the text of GRETIL (Göttingen), in Roman letters as it is given there. The translation is ours.