Just today I had a realization that almost everything in my environment is still.
Inanimate, motionless, at rest.
Yours too, probably.
The water bottle to your side, the lamp on your desk, the door to your room, the walls of your house, the street lamps outside, the houses those lamps lay over – all still.
Wherever we reside, we’re surrounded by a vast set of inanimate, primarily motionless, objects.
It’s easy to get lost in the momentum that is your mind.
I often extrapolate the velocity of my own mind into my surroundings, and associate the feeling of movement, stress, excitement, and anxiety to the outside world.
It helps to slow down, and recalibrate with the rest.
To observe and personally exhibit that same quality - that which is omnipresent - the stillness.
The observation of stillness in any entity other than yourself is a tunnel to the minimization of the self.
Perhaps a displacement of the self?
To make myself aware of my environment helps me detach from my self, and suddenly, like the books on my shelf, or the blanket on my bed, I too, embody a sense of stillness, and perhaps futility.
A good futility.