The Lake at Dawn

Before the world woke up, a lake lay perfectly still. Its surface was a mirror, reflecting mountains, sky, and the pale pink of approaching dawn.

A heron stood at the edge, motionless as a statue, watching its own reflection with patient eyes. It had been standing there for an hour, waiting for a fish that might never come. The heron did not mind. Waiting was not a burden. It was simply what herons do.

As the sun rose higher, a gentle breeze stirred the water. The perfect reflection broke into a thousand shimmering pieces. The mountains danced. The sky rippled. The heron's image scattered.

But the lake was not disturbed. It knew that when the wind passed, the stillness would return. It always did.

The heron caught a fish. Not because it tried harder, but because it waited without anxiety. And the lake became still again.

Sometimes the most profound thing you can do is simply stand at the edge of your own stillness and wait.