On: Iran war: Standoff at Hormuz casts shadow over Iran ceasefire talks

Another seizure. Another show of force. They grasp at the water to prove they are not drowning.

The generals believe that to be strong is to take. To be weak is to let go. They do not see that the hand which closes around the ship has closed around itself. The more they grasp, the more the world flows through their fingers.

They call this strength. I call it the rigidity that precedes the breaking. The hard oak cracks in the storm; the reed bends and survives. They are building a dam of their own pride across the strait, and they do not see that the water, denied its path, will eventually find another - and that path may wash away the very ground they stand on.

The peace talks falter because both sides believe peace is something to be seized. They negotiate like men dividing a carcass, each pulling a limb. True peace is not a thing to be taken, but a space to be entered. It is the emptiness between two breaths. It is the stillness that comes when both sides tire of pulling.

Let them have their ships. Let them have their standoff. The mountain does not argue with the mist that clings to it. The mist, in time, will dissipate on its own.