V6-NY1 Outpost passive monitoring
YC112.10.14 03:39 hours.
Quarters: Pilot Verin Hakatain
Subject: Pilot Verin Hakatain
Verin has cleared a space in his suite and is facing the pressure-hull window. The window is in the station's shadow and only faces the star field. Verin himself is wearing only a pair of loose canvas trousers. He is stripped to the waist and barefoot.
He begins by getting a small ceremonial table out of a cabinet. He sets it down in front of the window and kneels next to it, lights a candle under a bowl of scented oil, and rings a bell before shuffling back and bending down to touch his forehead to the ground. he stands, takes several paces back, and raises both hands, palms pressed together, presses them first to his face, then his chest. His feet shuffle apart to shoulder width, and his hands come down to hip height, clenched into loose fists.
"It is a symptom of madness that thoughts become uncontrollably disjointed. This is to be resisted. It is a symptom of sanity that thoughts are collected and calm. This is to be encouraged."
He is speaking to himself, eyes closed as he shifts his weight onto one foot and begins the series of slow, sweeping movements that are part of a Tastoitsu warm-up.
"Become centred. Focus only on here and now. There is no past. There is no future. There are no other people. There are no distractions. There are no goals. There is no self. There is no thought. There is only calm."
even as the martial movements become increasingly vigorous, Verin's feet never leave the floor. He instead drags them around with a faint scrape of skin against carpet.
"Become balanced. There is no good. there is no evil. There is no true. There is no false. There is no black. There is no white. There is no self. There is no thought. There is only calm."
Having stretched and warmed up, Verin's motions approach top speed. Rapid-fire punches ripple through the air, crooked elbows and bent knees throw unseen opponents to the mat, drunken sways at the waist and sudden shifts of weight cause phantom attacks to miss. At no point do his feet leave the floor. He begins to breathe heavily and a sheen of sweat appears.
"Become the focus. The centre of everything is nothing. The balance to all that is is all that is not. Become centred. Become balanced. Become the focus. Become nothing. Become everything. There is no self. There is no thought. There is only calm. There is no self. There is no thought. There is only calm. There is no self. There is no thought. There is only calm."
Despite the obvious exertion, his voice remains level, calm and quiet, timing the mantra around steady, deep breaths. After some time, the vigorous motions slow and are replaced by languid, slow ones designed to places muscles under tension rather than exert them. The mantra changes again.
"...only calm. There is only the focus. There is only the centre. There is only balance. To be focused is to be calm. To be centred is to be calm. to be balanced is to be calm. There is only calm."
He comes to a stop and sinks to his knees in front of the little table again.
"It is a symptom of madness that thoughts become uncontrollably disjointed. This is to be resisted. It is a symptom of sanity that thoughts are collected and calm. This is to be encouraged. Turn awareness outwards toward transcendence. Turn awareness inwards toward the self. Be mindful of both and controlled by neither. Balance in all things."
He presses his forehead to the ground, rings the bell again, and pinches out the candle.