Change is what happens when we’re doing other things. Beating eggs, reading street signs, peeing, sleeping, suing each other, renewing library books. Meanwhile the pancreas is slowly failing, the childhood trauma is slowly healing, the earth is slowly cooling. The big epiphanies that we log and revisit and obsess upon are mostly fakes and mirages. The real thing is imperceptibly slow.
Look at the oil tanker out in the ocean. Still as a rock, but look out again an hour later and it’s across the horizon. A million useless seagull screeches and clanging bells later that ship will be in Dubai.
A hundred hundreds of times in my life I thought I’d broken through to some victory, or thought I’d been destroyed. Never true. Whatever frees me or kills me is tectonic in its pace.