Two people arrived at Cloud Security Office Hours. One left with nothing. One left with everything.
At first, it seemed like an ordinary session—industry chatter, familiar faces, a lull in the conversation. The student leaned back in his chair, listening for something to spark. When nothing did, the mind began its quiet retreat:
“Maybe today isn’t the day. Maybe nothing interesting will happen.”
His attention floated just above the room, scanning for entertainment the way a bored uke waits for a dramatic throw. When none came, he slipped out, unnoticed.
Meanwhile, the Sensei stayed.
He didn’t stay because the conversation was exciting. He stayed because he was in it—weight underside, awareness spreading gently across the group. The way someone on the mat notices a partner’s subtle exhale, he noticed a shift in the call: a hesitation, a pause, an opening.
Before anyone else sensed it, he stepped forward—lightly. A question here. A reframing there. A concept nudged into the space, not pushed. The room warmed around him, and when the opportunity appeared for someone to give a presentation, it fell naturally into his hands.
Two people, same room. How can one leave early because nothing is happening, while the other finds what he came for by staying?
Later, the student wondered:
“Was I waiting for the room to change… while he was already changing with it?”
He replayed the scene and noticed what he had missed: the way boredom had folded his attention back into himself; the way his Ki had scattered outward in search of stimulation instead of extending into the field; the way “I’m here to be entertained” had quietly replaced “I’m here to connect.”
If the world is a dojo, what stance had he taken?
And what stance had the Sensei taken?
A new koan emerged:
“When nothing is happening, is it the world that is empty— or the place you’re standing?”
The next time he entered a room, he tried a small experiment.
He settled his breath. Let attention drop to Hara. Allowed curiosity—not expectation—to fill his chest. And extended his awareness outward, just enough to feel the room rather than judge it.
Something subtle shifted.
People lingered longer in conversation. Openings appeared where before there were none. The room didn’t change—but the person entering did.
And in that shift, opportunities began to find him.
⛩️🖥️
