Finding the Center

I stepped out onto the cool grain of the desk. In my path lay a single wooden pencil, slender and resting loose against the surface. Rather than walking past, I placed my boot upon its painted barrel. It gave way, rolling slightly across the lacquer. I adjusted my weight, lowered my center, and let the counter-pressure settle. The rolling ceased. For several quiet breaths, I held my stance atop the narrow cylinder, completely still in the lamplight. The alignment felt right.