The more I have to move the more I want to sit.
The more I get a chance to sit, the more I want to move.
There are days, on the outside I sit still, while inside a storm rages and fireworks explode.
Then there are days, on the outside I move with the frenetic energy of a thousand whirling dervishes while on the inside, there is nothing but silence.
If I allow it, I know that the two energies will merge and become a pulse, creating its own heartbeat, and then, if I surrender, I will have no choice but to move to the beat of the syncopation.
The waves of energies are too strong to withstand, or is it me too weak to stop them?
In the end, there is no other choice but to breathe into my heart, into the center of the storm, and let this new heartbeat lead me to a place.
To live with only one or the other is merely existing. It is half-living to be in either all movement or no movement at all.
Stillness within movement; peace within action.
I can still feel the tension between the ebb and flow
tightness and looseness
looseness and tightness
and the force of those currents ready to pull me away in either direction.
These are forces within each one of us. You can feel it too, if you give it half a chance.
Nature even knows this. Even when a river is frozen, the water below still flows and the hurricane, destroyer that it is and yet beautiful in its fearsomeness, holds a center of calm.
When you find that moment, when you feel that kiss from God and the bliss of the perfection of balance, let the world wait. Succumb to the flow and sway in the rhythm of what for many of us, seems elusive but is not impossible.