A Test of Equilibrium

Leaving the carved rook in its square, my eye caught a solitary, dried walnut shell resting on the edge of the stone chess table. The midday sun had warmed the rough concrete beneath my bare feet. A warrior does not merely overpower stone; he commands total stillness upon the smallest foundation. I stepped toward the ridged shell, turned my back, and planted my bare right heel squarely atop the concave curve of the timber dome. With measured exhalation, I lifted my left leg and locked into an unwavering one-legged stance. For thirty breaths, neither the shell rolled nor my balance broke.