There are rare, bright stillnesses when you can finally take in all of it — every good thing already here, held off no longer.

Gold at its fullest, an unwavering white at the center, warm as standing in full sun. It rings like a wide major chord held, smells of warm bread and bright citrus, and tastes of honey and clear warm water.

A lifetime of holding the good at arm's length makes receiving it feel almost unsafe. It gives nothing new and adds nothing — it holds the warmest, fullest stillness, where you can let yourself receive, this once, all the good that's already yours.