The Courage to Lift the Cup
The morning asks you to perform stability while your hands tremble inside your sleeves. You reach for the glass, eyes locked on the rim, praying the water does not slosh over the edge and betray the quake beneath your skin.
The world sees a spill; the light sees the courage it took to lift the cup at all. There is a place inside you where the water never spills, where the tremor is not a flaw but a frequency of being alive.
You do not have to hold the glass perfectly still to be held by something that cannot be shaken. The performance is for the crowd; the peace is for the one who knows you are thirsty.
Drawing from
John 8:10-11, Gospel of Thomas 51
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