Last night I was watching a basketball game. I didn’t really care which team was winning. I wasn’t rooting for anyone. I just intended to watch the ball, like a ballet: the ball moving across the court, flowing up and back, in and out of hands, bouncing on the floor, going toward the hoop. I just watched it move.
This morning, I was standing outside, looking at the trees, the leaves, the clouds, the birds. My gaze drifted naturally from one to the next, as if each were a colored dot. I didn’t think about them. I didn’t follow a sequence. My eyes just shifted from place to place, and for a moment, it felt exactly like watching the ball move last night.
Then it came into focus. The movement I was seeing was not the stillness of the trees, the clouds, or the birds. The real movement was in my mind, shifting with my gaze, tracing the flow of what I saw. It was the mind creating motion across the stillness of the world, not merely reacting to objects that are still or moving. Flow wasn’t out there—it was in me.
And in that, I noticed something deeper. In the flow of everyday life, from one task to the next, from one moment to another, it’s easy to forget this. We get caught in the apparent stillness of each thing, thinking it happens independently, losing the sense of movement connecting everything. But the gaze, the mind, the awareness—they carry the flow. Movement is alive because the mind is alive in it. The world moves, yes—but it is our mind moving through it that makes the dance real.
Spiritual Gravity 