You can get into a really weird hard-to-describe mental state by meditating on the nature of how you move a finger, how it starts as some subconscious thought and ends up as a physical motion. But since you can feel the finger move, since it is constantly providing sensory feedback on its state, it feels like the thought to move a finger lives inside the finger itself, doesn’t it?
If you look at your hand from an early age, you can also contemplate the slowness of aging. I look at the back of my hand and think, hmmm, someday it will be old and wrinkled. What will that be like? I cannot imagine it now, yet I know it will be. I don’t even remember how it used to look, even though I know I looked at it even when I was in preschool. So why can’t I remember how it looked in preschool? Because the change was too slow to see. (Like those face videos, someone should do a video like "Bob takes a picture of his hand everyday for 20 years.") Someday my hand will even completely decompose. I won’t be observing it then, but that will be it’s ultimate fate, which is an odd thought. Sorry hand.
If you look at the hand for too long, like thinking about the sound of a word for too long, it starts to seem really funny. It’s a square of meat with fleshy sticks coming out.
If I made myself blog everyday, this is probably the sort of stuff I’d write about.