Seen from a low eye level, the aisle runs straight to the altar. On either side, dark brown wooden chairs stand in rows with their backs upright, and there is no one anywhere among them. At the far end, colored glass in three pointed windows is lit with a damp light.
Facing a scene like this, the eyes are drawn on their own to the far windows. Then the shoulders drop, and the breath being drawn in runs a little longer than usual. The soles of the feet take in the coolness of the stone floor, and the hands lose their work on the knees.
The mind is usually straining to arrive somewhere. The empty chairs bring that straining to a brief halt. There is a looseness that comes from things simply set in place, with no one waiting and no share to fill.
How about wanting nothing for three minutes, just as you are sitting now. Without a thought of gaining anything, it is fine to lean back and only watch the breath come and go.
The same three minutes open up while waiting for a green light at a crossing. A body waiting for the signal to change is generally tilted forward, and in that interval you can take stock, without counting, of which stretches longer, the inhale or the exhale. It does not matter if the lengths are uneven. Some people will go so far as to notice how those lengths change the moment they step off at the changed light.
A lit window stays bright on its own all afternoon, even with no one coming to see it.
