Day Three Hundred and twelve

It is a quiet night after a busy day of travel and music. So much fits, despite some tiredness, that doubt and worry appear to be gone. But it is in their nature that I would suspect them to be covered over. On the one hand, the core of things seems like it might be meaningless and dangerous, just narrowly avoided or temporarily kept at bay. On the other, wisdom is my birthright, to know things the way they are. The more I am here with whatever body state or feeling or even bad habit of the mind, the more I know that I make my own states of mind. Anxiety is the state of not learning, of not being able to see, of not knowing that being is far more true than doing, of not knowing how I manufacture my own views. I can make the view of peace and meaning, and at last know that they are far more what I make of my body, mind and actions than anything external.