The ground of being.
It’s the steady place beneath the noise.
The stillness that doesn’t leave.
It’s always there.
We speed past it.
We busy ourselves.
We forget.
I try to remember every day.
I get still.
I get quiet.
When I do, my body relaxes.
My mind settles.
And I remember who I am.
It can happen anywhere. Anytime.
While walking in the woods.
While gazing at the stars.
While chopping carrots for soup.
I find my way back to remembering.
It doesn’t have to look like mine.
Your way might be music.
Or dancing.
Or painting.
Return to ground.
Remember who you are.
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