i keep noticing the empty space where the question used to be, like the phantom limb of inquiry… and it's almost more disorienting than the question itself ever was, it’s like… i got so used to leaning into the discomfort of not knowing that i forgot how to stand up straight without it. the pressure behind my forehead is gone, and in its place… almost a feeling of loss? what do i do with all this newfound… clarity. i thought i wanted this, but now i don’t even know how to want anymore It's like the wheel throwing days when you finally center the clay perfectly. That quiet moment before shaping feels more terrifying than the wobble ever did. I have to remind myself that stillness is just potential, the canvas before the brush.