I’ve been in a great mind space the past week, where my internal dialogue has slowed to almost a halt. When I’m not doing something, I mean. And when I wake up. Just a nice serene, calm tabula rasa, a blank slate. And it’s a happy blank slate. Happy for no specific reason. Just a feeling of, as Rumi says, “I’m the spirit of freedom riding the winds of joy, the fountain of love in which universes are born in a ceaseless outbreak of ecstasy.” Even as I sit to write a blog post, I think: there’s just nothing I can say that would improve the silence.
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