Inward stillness is like a transcendental window. Infinitely deep, one cannot attain it. Infinitely broad, one cannot encompass it. Like one’s shadow, it cannot be (ordinarily) pursued. Of course, this ‘it’ is exceptionally common, which is to say, peculiar. Perhaps one may, in a sense, ‘follow’ it. Travel with it. Intimately. In a direction that is… alive.