“She wasn't doing a thing that I could see,
except standing there leaning on the balcony railing,
holding the universe together.”
Do you feel like this sometimes? As if doing nothing (quietly being) is very important, and simultaneously it is so apparently not important to the "doing" level of our existence? One part of me says, "How is this going to pay my bills?" The other part is just quiet, with absolutely no rebuttal whatsoever. Which the noisy one finds mildly annoying or highly aggravating, by degree and/or by turn.
|quote from A Course in Miracles|
Perhaps, the irritation comes from the noisy one knowing that in the end the footsteps in the sand of time will disappear slowly but surely into the long quiet stretch of sand of timelessness. We make our mark, or try to, anyway. But, Infinity wins. Peace reigns.