A pendulum swings.
A pendulum keeps time. Keeps the beat. After all, that’s it’s purpose. Without the oscillation there would be no rhythm, no use. It finds its way to the center, its home, but forgets to stop. Correct and over-correct, constantly displaced. How many times does it carve out this path?
There is a point on the journey where the pendulum says “enough”. More than enough. This path has been traveled to its conclusion. And it begins to turn its swing in the other direction, back toward equilibrium. Back to home. There’s another beat waiting there to be struck and it simply won’t do to miss it. And so it turns.
It is at this instant of syncopation, in the space between moments, that a wonderful thing happens. If you’re attentive you can catch it, the split-second where the pendulum is no longer moving. When it can no longer be said to be traveling in this direction, but not yet in that one either. It stands in place, however briefly, entirely at rest. This is eternity. Utter stillness amid perpetual motion.
May this be that moment, peace both fleeting and forever.