A field’s most difficult edge is its very center. The mind prefers outer edges. We look for refuge in a side and the mind tends to drift you to one. Staying in the center requires more activity, like controlling a dream. Maybe that’s what it’s like for birds to cling to branches, always being pulled away into the refuge of the air. You can only manage to cling to the center as long as you’re not aware of it. Tell a bird how marvelous it is how she clings to the branches and she’ll surely be pulled into the sky. Once you’re aware of what you’re doing, you’re veering into the side. You can no longer hold the center. The composition collapses. All the birds scatter, all at once.