Slowing down is my dream. We all need to slow down. There’s no purpose to all this rushing around except to hurry toward death and not notice life along the way. I can be as fast and competitive and driven as anyone, at work, at school, on the highway, but I rush around knowing it’s a pointless race. Slowing down is my dream. Paying attention to details inside and outside of my body and my brain, breathing, attending, recognizing, acknowledging is the rainbow’s end and beginning. Even this, the timed writing prompt, self-imposed, good discipline, to develop a practice, is me getting up half an hour earlier in the morning to write, hurrying to get an idea, paying attention to the clock so I won’t write too long and won’t be late for work. Instead of just writing, which is listening and writing, listening until I recognize one of all those voices that want to be heard, till it resonates and rings true and I acknowledge it and let it flow into consciousness. That may take eons – and a brave ear, an ear connected to my heart. That may take eons, timeless floating through space (that’s us), inner and outer worlds mingling in the starlit dark of eternity, breathing, attending, recognizing, acknowledging, making our perceptions conscious, making art.