There is a part of me that is not sharp or defended. It doesn’t argue. It doesn’t brace. It yields. I call it the squishy part, not because it’s weak, but because it’s alive. It’s the place that compresses when something presses against it, and slowly returns to shape when the pressure leaves. You can feel it when you’re moved by something you didn’t expect. A look held a second longer than necessary. A sentence that lands in your chest instead of your mind. The quiet after b

The Quiet Knowing When I sit inside myself long enough, everything begins to connect. The boat. The body. The equations. The images. The waves of understanding. Nothing is wasted. Every sensation teaches me how to live more honestly within my own skin. I am not trying to become less sensitive. I am learning how to be well-contained. I don’t experience the present always as a series of events. I often experience it as various levels of weight. Some moments pass through me with