Tranquility is a
treasure. One that cannot be found on an old pirates’ map. It can be found
though. Maybe not in a retreat, but perhaps in a quiet Saturday morning before
everyone else gets up. Maybe in a cup of tea. Possibly in the cool breeze
coming in through the open window. Maybe in realizing that understanding is all
about not understanding. A deer passes by the window. Somewhere, a lightning
bolt hits the ground. It’s all relative and relevant. They say what we don’t
know can hurt us, but sometimes what we do know is just as dangerous.
