Transition, Now

I am currently in a state of transition. More specifically the one that was inevitable from the moment I was born. And even without the almost decades of foreshadowing, I could sense it coming, like I could when I noticed I had dimples on my back, when I saw the lines at the edges of my eyes. Transition. Traces of it, always, evident in life. Sometimes noticeable in the present, sometimes only in hindsightful explorations of memories. But clear, a constant. The only one, really. Change is the only thing that stays the same.

Transition; have you ever noticed that that’s what a moment is anyway? The transition between past and future: present. Both stretch in either direction infinitely, and the present is the most fleeting thing I know of. Each moment is welded to the next by time, and we live in the in-between. This is where we find our reality.

My reality is ending, I’m realizing, or at least the only reality I’ve ever known. I’m off to search for joy, in its laboratory-pure sense, in its separated from everything else sense. Essence of Joy, like a bath salt, to soak in. Elements of preparation for Future also included, says the label on the box, of the bath salt, of my mind.

Did I mention that it’s ending?

Look, if this is what joy is supposed to be, I’m not sure I’m doing it right. All those transitions were for this one, and I’m not sure they were worth it. I spent too much time looking out for the next Now. Did I? Or did I not spend enough?

It’s easy to explore all the things that have already happened, but our mistake is thinking they’ll have some implication on what happens next. But I read this book, this existential detective story, and some philosopher was quoted as saying that the Self changes every hour. So if every hour I’m a different me, I don’t know how I can expect anyone else to remain constant. Whoever said “People don’t change” was lying to themselves. That’s all we do.

I’m changing, the way I love is changing, I’m transitioning, everything is a transition. Off. I go. To seek a big world.

I’m conscious of this being the only moment in which the sky is the limit.

I’m conscious of a severe need to go to bed, a severe wish to have a lucid dream, in which I will will myself to be able to fly, because really, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. My single wish.

The sky’s the limit, in this moment, in two ways.

In infinite ways, stretching either direction.