The Centre of All Things.
I am travelling just now.My luggage waits for me, testing the measure of truth.Standing in line you ask: will my luggage be within the weight limit: overweight or not?A number and a singular truth.I wait for reality to declare itself.But even here we forget about the mass of the earth that brings us to this moment.We forget the cosmic orbit and spin that is eternally casting us out into the inky void in a dance.We forget the stability and fixity this small number on a screen, just for this moment, is a single representation of a reduced Cosmos.The weight of my bag is a small surrogate for a cosmic dance that, if attended to, calls me back to the presence of all things.Yet it gives us something still enough to hold on to while obscuring everything that makes that stillness possible.It is a drop of truth taken from an immeasurable ocean of belonging.And so, even here, my luggage sitting pensively beside me, is just for a moment, the centre of all things.