I stare up at the ceiling fan. It swirls the air around me, while noisily clinking away. Two of four lights are broken and the hanging chains cannot be silenced.
I softly settle into the quasi-dimness and marvel at the enormity of it all. My tiny moment, envelpoed in the fabric of all heres and nows presently occurring. And I? I'm privileged to witness this one. To thrive in this heightened awareness. I've accepted loose ends, and instead of fusing each together in an artificial knot, I've let them hang as naturally as they've occurred. I realized they needed no fixing (none that I could offer at least). Sure enough, success has threaded its way through the dangling strands as it was destined to. I marvel at the comfort I revel in, knowing I had to rush nothing. Circumstance introduced me, experience taught me, and reflection? It exposes my minuteness. All has invigorated me, though strangely, I've hardly influenced any of all.
But to an extent, I have. And this flicker of light makes me smile.
I want to be like a tiny bug, with huge, round eyes.
