The small, the quiet, the empty.

A small gift. An empty box. A quiet room.

These are not generally words that spark much interest in the human mind. We tend to hide our souls amidst the bigger the better, …the more the merrier.

In my attempt of self-discovery I have conciously allowed my soul to take more breaks than usual. I do it often and in peculiar places that are not usually places of rest.

During these breaks there’s no talking, no walking, …just listening to the sound of the quiet room. This allows me to experience what often times is over looked and so quickly taken for granted. In those moments I can finally hear my thoughts without them having to compete with the noise of life’s busy do-dads. I can appreciate the rhythm of my beating heart, providing a rhythmic escapade against my thoughts.

I even learned to appreciate the crooked painting on the wall in the second floor break room, and the ceiling tiles that don’t quit fit in the corners. (this used to annoy the perfectionist in me to no end.)

Being small, quiet and empty is no longer a bad thing. It’s now a blank canvas for the good, the beautiful, the new. And I can get down with that!

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