Feet feeling rock, until one loses the ability to tell where the sole ends and the mountain begins. If one were rooted like a gnarly cedar, it would feel no different. When there is nothing but mind, there is no longer anything to differentiate...
There once was a Marquis named de Sade whose philosophy many found odd: The pursuit of pleasure, by any measure, is to spoil by not sparing the rod!
Don't rest your hopes on a four-leaf clover, or pray the gray will lift and blow over. A lucky rabbit would retain its foot, and a four-shoed horse can still go kaput. In life, friends and foes can do-si-do, and which one is which, you may not know.
We need a flow of wild ideas, though some will drift ever onward, into the vast nowhere: beyond application or reason. One will catch on the shore, others will pile into it, becoming a beaver dam of bad ideas. Unstable? Maybe. But the flood will rise, and lift that stuck idea, and send the whole logjam spiraling out to the deeps where maybe one idea will float apart, and find the light that makes it look worth chasing.
In a patch of Deccan wetlands, I see the cattails of my Hoosier youth. Half a world away, and nature grants me continuity that culture can't provide. I am transported to my youth by a common landscape. Indiana -- India, names almost the same, but ever so different... except the cattails.
a face in a tree;
my mind turns all into one:
tree-man not man-tree
Tiger Riding for Beginners 