Between the thing that happens and the story you tell about it, there's a small unguarded second. That's where you actually live.
I spent years reaching for there.
But where is there?
Every memory of there arises here.
Every dream of tomorrow dawns here.
I looked for the gap.
I couldn’t find it.
There was only ever here.
You think the open mind keeps you free. Watch what happens the moment someone questions what you believe.
You think the ache comes from not getting it. It started the moment your hand began to move.
The thoughts haven't slowed. What changed is who I think I am inside them.
Point at your hand. You see your hand. Point at the place everyone calls your face, and the finger arrives at the room.
Sent when something is worth saying.
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