Appearing - from our own formless mystery we are somehow given lines within existence. And yet what is offered is a contoured space within a greater whole. We are defined as form by own spaciousness pressed against us. It's a temporary appearance for no reason we can figure save the pleasure of knowing our own touch.
~
The great joy of running - is that we're running. Everything else is a mystery. Our steps are an exploration of our grounded self. Our breath an endless question given to the sky. We're not looking for answers - it's enough to simply ask, to explore, and rest in the stillness of not knowing.
Peace,
Eric
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