The search was the noise
You can spend years looking for what was already waiting wherever you finally stop.
On this page
The search was the noise
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For years I treated stillness like a destination.
Something I'd arrive at if I sat long enough, read enough, fixed enough of myself first.
The search had its own gravity.
It felt like progress because it felt like motion.
What I couldn't see was that the search was the noise.
Every reach confirmed I wasn't already there.
The reaching was the proof of absence I kept manufacturing to justify the next reach.
You don't arrive at stillness.
You stop producing the distance.
The thing you've been looking for has been doing the looking.