I went to the Wellspring, but could not see her there where she always is.
I sat and looked out over the scrabbly ground, breathed in the scent of rock and brush and feather. The stillness of the place welled up in me, rose up through me and fountained out. And then I realized — I couldn’t see the Wellspring because we were occupying the same space, she and I, we inhabited one another.
Maybe that’s what this is, this strange lack of friction, maybe I’ve fallen into alignment and, just for as long as it lasts, everything is in sync, and so I see nothing at all.
The moment in between.
The moment of inconsistency sandwiched between the consistent Law of Eternal Unfulfillment.
A precious place.
The sweet spot.