Passing Time

Being able to simply pass time is not simple at all. In fact, it is probably one of the most difficult things one can do. The value of passing time tends to go unnoticed and is quickly becoming a lost art. Lost. Lost between shuttling children to and from games, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, working, training...  running around being.... lost.

Passing time. Drifting. Pondering nothing. Finding your mind empty, yet receptive on a very superfluous level. Fleeting feelings floating through your mind. Subconsciously processing nothing. Things falling into place. Suddenly.
I plug into my MP3 player and close my eyes. I disappear from the outside world, from the cafe and the six or so twenty-year olds discussing... who cares what? To my ears it is just babble. I tap the rhythm with my foot, moving my body to the music. Passing time. In my own world. I don't know, nor do I care, if people are watching me. They are not a part of this. It is my experience. My place. There is no door to pass through to get here, but few people make it, mainly because they don't take the first step. There are no directions. Only one way will get you here. Yours. One step at a time.