our story seldom allows stillness. It is busy with its self construction. Our lives are filled with movement, our minds moving from one activity to the next. Seldom do we stop, sit under a tree, by the meadow or under the stars. The current of life draws us rapidly down stream as we fall under the wheel of time.
We often come to physical rest but seldom do we actually stop. Full stop: a mind at rest, without the incessant movement towards a planned future, todo lists, agendas, outcomes. We are caught in the net of time, ensnarled in time which we create.
When we stop, time ends. The story ends. And the infinite avails itself. Continuity is the movement of the past to the future. It is a projection of the past, inertia.
Only by stopping can we be touched by the timeless and reside in the centre from which creation originates.