99 Words for 99 Days: July 19

45. Inside

Days fill up. All by themselves, sixty minutes per hour, they fill. They pass. Or, that is how it seems. I've begun again to wonder about this sense of passing. Perhaps I need to move around a bit and get a better look. I mean, what if they're not filling up, but instead, I'm standing in the flow of a current, and the time that's going by is a sense of the numinous – the unspeakable? This is surely what the mystics mean by God's being in the moment. Only in the moment. Only in this moment. Inside of now.

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