I am completely taken by the simplicity of things. Something so basic and I am in awe.

I bring my hand to eye level, palm facing me, with all the fingers pointing up. I bend my pinky down and up, then my ring finger, then my middle finger, and then my index finger. As if each finger, one by one, were taking a bow. I end with my thumb. No, I don’t really end. I repeat the motions in reverse, now starting with the thumb. And again, and again. Each time I slow down a little.

This only gives me more time to think. This motion, this movement. The slower the finger, the more I think. I have to find its source.

I slowly trace the movements back. As much as I can. The signal must come from some where, some place. I trace it down my palm, through my wrist and to my elbow. It flows up my bicep, around my shoulder blade, and up my neck. My mind, it is coming from my mind.

A mere thought causes these movements.

This motion is a thought.

Where do these thoughts come from? These thoughts that move me, where do they come from?

Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.