I hide.
What am I hiding and what am I hiding from?
What is it that is hiding?… In plain sight, I am. Am I not?
Hiding, in plain sight?
Hiding that I am hiding?

Maybe I am not hiding.
Maybe I am playing the hiding game. Playing it so well that I forgot I am playing.

Maybe I am.

And what if I am not?
What if none of it is true?
What if all is well as it is? Would I need to hide?
What if I decide to try resting in/as what is.
Without knowing.
As it is.

Birds at the feeder.
A sore bottom.

Is there a need to know?
Do I need to burden myself with a need to know?
To know what? And when?
Freedom tomorrow?
Clarity tomorrow?
Happiness tomorrow?

I rest as I am. No need to know.
All is well.

The gentle mysterious hum of the fan

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