There is a sequence that asks for patience. It begins with a soft stirring in the dark, a gentle reminder to notice the arrival of dawn.

Some moments feel unclear, others spark with clarity, and both need to grow. It’s curious how my energy rises when I stop forcing it, a stream finding its path—sometimes rushing, sometimes still, yet always knowing its rhythm.

Who is right? Who is wrong? I don’t know…

There’s a joy that arises without reason, a lightness that comes when I stop weighing everything down without changing anything.

Everything balances when I let go like a bird on a branch—neither anxious nor relaxed, simply existing in its own space.

When I stop trying to hold it together, a deeper order emerges, akin to stars gradually appearing as night unfolds.

Now the world is gone, I’m just one.

The mind settles like dust in still water; no effort is needed. Watching transforms into something more profound, shifting in ways that cannot revert.

These streams connect and feed one another, moving in their rhythm without guidance, as night knows when to yield to dawn.

I think everyone has this moving through them. Everyone has these qualities, such as sleeping and waking alone. Everyone is sometimes the soil, the seed, the plant, or the fruit—always ripening.

You are always welcome.