# The Hour We Hold

## A Gentle Boundary

An hour arrives without fanfare, sixty minutes marked by the soft tick of a clock or the fade of daylight. On this December evening in 2025, as the year winds down, it feels like a quiet invitation. Not too long to overwhelm, not too short to rush. It's a boundary we can grasp, a space to pause amid the pull of days blending into weeks.

## What Fills It

In one hour, a conversation can mend a frayed friendship. A walk through crisp air can clear a clouded mind. You might read a letter from years ago, feeling its words settle like snow. Or sit with a cup of tea, watching steam rise, and let thoughts unfold without hurry.

- A child's laughter echoing in the kitchen.
- The steady rhythm of breath during a moment of stillness.
- Pages turned in a well-loved book, stories taking root.

These aren't grand events, but they weave the fabric of a full life. The hour holds them tenderly, reminding us that depth comes not from endless time, but from presence.

## Releasing and Renewing

As the hour ends, we let it go—no regrets, just gratitude. Another begins, empty and ready. This rhythm teaches us to live lightly, one hour at a time, finding meaning in the ordinary flow.

*In the hour before us, may we meet it with open hands.*