Life is like the sky, like the empty sky. It has no boundaries so it cannot be defined. You cannot say where it begins and where it ends. It is eternal, it is infinite, yet it is right in this place, just in front of you. You cannot possess it, but there is no way for it to disappear either. It is there. It is always there. You have to drop your rush, your hurry, your ideas to go somewhere, to reach, to become, to be this and that. You have to stop becoming. And it is there; you cannot lose it.
And so taking the long way home through the busy streets of the capital, I slow my pace down. It doesn't come naturally. My legs are programmed to trot briskly and my arms to pump up and down like pistons, but I force myself to stroll past the crowds and pavement cafes. To enjoy just being somewhere, rather than rushing from somewhere, to somewhere. Inhaling deep lungfuls of air, instead of my usual shallow breaths. I take a moment to just stop and look around me. And smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I am trying to, quite literally, smell the coffee.
