That day, I wanted to trace my fingers around the circle a bit longer.
I did not understand what made it feel so safe for my roommate to stay in.
I felt almost like an intruder. She looked solemn.
At peace. Praying, as she has done for her entire life.
How does it hold, without the seams breaking?
I returned to the same line of thought. I felt guilty sometimes, as if mere curiosity itself was a kind of disrespect.
I thought about how easily she rested in what she had been given. I wondered if she traced her circle too, sometimes.
"Isn't it better to stretch your toes out a bit?", I asked myself.
I tried to justify it. I told myself it was only conditioning. But as I argued with myself, I could not help but wonder if I'm using logic to run away from a deeper tension.
She looked peaceful. Isn't that what we all want? I can argue how she's limiting herself - but who am I to place conditions on the validity of her peace?
That day, my fingers tried to trace their own circle again, but they only found edges.