The sweet joy of sitting in meditation before dawn. The stillness of love gifted within and without. All was broken by the scratching of my shirt’s tag against my neck. I started to reach and move the tag but stopped when I noticed how tense my body had become. I was not silent. I had become angry at the tag. In its silent scratching it had deafened my heart and stiffened my body. My mind had raced to fear that this was not a good omen for the day. It was just a tag. It was just a tag. And somehow it had transformed into something more than cloth and threads ever dared to think they would be. I sat with the tag, befriending what it simply was. A laughter meditation, but ever so humbling. A lesson best gently learned from a little tag, than with others, beliefs, and life. And when the unstilled stilled sitting was done, to leave a soft feather of trust and gratitude to this tag…releasing all others not made with cloth.