Waiting for an idea, I watch the pages of my wall calendar being stirred by the fan. The current date is empty, a blank white square. The future is full of obligations and anticipations—busy little squares. But none of that is now. Now I sit in the open space of the present, aware of the sensation of sitting and breathing, of the sound of the fan, the breath-like movement of the pages, free to fully inhabit the whole of the moment while gazing at the illusion of time.
Open Space
Published by
Amber Foxx Mysteries 
You have mastered the gift of being mindful.
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Thank you, but I wouldn’t claim mastery. The practice is always that–a practice.
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Yes, but you achieved an inner sense of balance and strive for equilibrium. I notice you appear to be on a quest.
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