Stillness.
It's never quite what you think it is. It's never quite where you think it will be, either. It is more than the act, yet often you are required to act it to find it. Stillness lies in the calm before the storm. It lies in the soft ripples in your cup of tea as the breeze blows across it. The ants marching along the sticks, grass, and doorways. It lies in you, as you sit and listen to your breath. Your breath which feeds your blood which keeps your heart pumping...pumping...pumping. Stillness. In the pounding of shoes against pavement. In the scratch of a pen against paper. In the hum of two massive engines as they soar through the sky. This is my stillness. My peace. My happiness.