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I’m sitting here beside a lake and I’m really resting. Resting on a bench, but also resting inside.

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It feels like floating. I’m being carried. It doesn’t feel profound or deep. It’s simple, like floating on a current of air.

My mind wants to do so much. My thoughts are racing like a throughfare through my brain. But I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to race along with them.

I don’t have to take that racing thought train wherever it’s going. I can get off at any point. I really can. I don’t always do it, but it’s available.

When I get off, what’s left is what’s here. It’s something that I can rest in.

Now I do feel moved by this:

This moment is something that you can rest in.

If you feel that even for a second, you know what I’m talking about. Isn’t it amazing that that is always possible?

Rest isn’t always going to be my experience. Lord knows, it’s not always my experience, but that doesn’t change it any more than the fact that this day is gray and cloudy and I can’t see the sun means that the sun isn’t there. The sun is still there. I just can’t see it in the moment.

The clouds clear and there it is. What’s always been there.

You have that. You have that space of rest inside of you.

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