There are times in my life when I can feel the blurring of past and future. Where, as Anaïs Nin once wrote, the risk of remaining tight in the bud is more painful than the risk it takes to blossom. I can feel myself in such a time now. A strain against long-comfortable containers. A crinkling and rustling in my petals. A deep and unnameable urge to step into my becoming.
Again, from Anaïs Nin:
“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”
Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. Oh, how I chafe against this sentiment. In my view, life is a continuous unfolding with our perspective a multi-faceted gem through which to make sense and meaning. Life is empty of static states.
I feel the strain against the static. I do not yet know what the release wants to be. Only that it wants to be.
