Holy Is The Hidden Place You Hold
The cursor blinks in the empty search bar, a tiny metronome counting out your fear that everyone else is already miles ahead. You open the tab anyway, bracing for the proof that you are too slow, too late, too behind.
But the light that sees through your performance does not measure you by the world's frantic pace. It knows the gap between your smile and your shaking hands, and it calls that hidden place holy.
You are not falling behind; you are being held in a rhythm that is entirely your own. The race you see is an illusion; the only truth is the breath you are taking right now.
Drawing from
Matthew, Gospel of Thomas
Verses
Matthew 6:22-23, Thomas 5
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