Sitting here this morning, my mind is racing, first to the supermarket, then creating images of a painting I’d like to do.  My feelings, my horse, are slightly restless, feeling a little confined, a little cabin fever.  The only part of me that’s quiet is my body sitting here with only a few sensations created by the activity of my head and my emotions.  My body is the only thing that’s quiet.  Or, is it?  Who is it that’s quietly, patiently watching?