You have been fully embroiled in living today. You had a number of things screaming for your attention. You gave them your everything. The day is giving in to the evening. You are not still done with what was to be attended to. But at some point you have to move on. The day has been lived. You have to go back to battle the next day. But now it’s time to respect the onset of dusk. The mind is still reaching out for crumbs. A loose end there and a  loose end here. Wishes it had more time to knot it all up satisfactorily. But it’s the way it is.

The mind right now is like a piece of silk that is stuck in thorns. 

Now you sit down to disentangle the mind. How? With skill. The mind left to itself will pull in every direction, tear itself up. You don’t give in to the desperation of the mind. You delicately disentangle it. Thorn by thorn. It can’t all happen at once. But as one thorn after another lets go of the silk, it becomes easier and easier to disentangle from the rest of the thorns. Out comes the silk from the bushes. You can fold up the beautiful piece of silk onto itself.  Finally the mind rests onto itself. Life feels beautiful, content. That is all there is to living, the art of living. Again and again and again.