John R. Miles

It's not a sign the mix is failing.

It's the signal that alchemy is beginning.

The worker keeps turning the paddle, slow and steady.

The mixture thickens.

Colors blend.

Air bubbles rise and disappear.

What was separate becomes something new.

Mortar.

A humble paste that will hold stones weighing tons.

That will seal the pyramid against time itself.

But here's the truth.

The worker isn't mixing just for himself.

He knows the mortar only works...

when it fills the space between the stones.

In our lives, meaning lives in that same space between us.

It is the inner subjective bond, our collective intelligence that turns a pile of rocks into a sanctuary.

That worker understood what we often forget.

True endurance starts in the mix.

not in the grand stones already cut and waiting, but in the quiet, invisible blending of elements.

Last week, I revealed the architecture of significance, the foundation of quiet recognition, where inherent worth stands solid, the pillars of circulation, where giving flows outward and returns,