Remains a Traction

If we are fortunate we will encounter still, quiet thoughts; thoughts unadorned or at least modestly dressed. Much of life loses its traction in these spaces. Almost all becomes small and space expands and breath moves naturally like the sea. These times exist but most often come after humbling.

In our waking and clamoring thoughts we are at the work of tower building and border fighting. We have not taken time to see what is past the first wave of thistles in fallow ground. They too have their season and are not eternal. There is a moment of trust in taking your hand off the plow.
And trust is what it comes to. Trust is all of nothing. Trust is the hole in the middle (but it is and must be the middle); the delicate space between two people. This is a space we long to secure with law or force but as we clutch at the other in need or aggression the space dissolves yields itself without resistance.

But recall the quiet awful strength in that absence. Remember that moment of lonely self-truth. Is there something that finds traction in such absence? Let it linger.