This morning, I noticed my pencils and papers were right where I left them last night – right where they should be -- and it made me wonder if all of life is always right where it should be. I spend far too much time trying to tell things and people – including myself – where they should be and what they should be doing, when I should almost certainly just sit back and be in awe at the simple properness of everything. Pencils, papers, small twigs on trees, clouds that carry themselves silently above us – all are precisely where they need to be at this moment. Are they where I, with my worse than sparse wisdom and willpower, wish they were? Perhaps not, but neither are the falls at Niagara falling because I wish them to. The universe, together with my papers and pencils, is always just where it should be, relentlessly bringing to birth its absolute fittingness and precision.