Liz Larin | Journal

The Shift
March 10th, 2006

I felt the shift. I was doing something else; I was watching TV. But as I watched TV, as usual, I was letting another part of my brain work. It must be an adaptation, something we humans have learned to do in response to the constant influx of information in this so called modern life. I felt the shift; I smiled to myself. I realized at that instant that I am ready to embrace my new life. In that instant I let go of the old life, tattered and threadbare from my constant inqirey. My over active brain has examined and re-examined so much of it and now I’ve come the final conclusion; you have to let it go. You have to set it adrift on an icy flow with the realization that you won’t be seeing it again. The spring will come and melt the ice slowly somewhere, far off, turning the snow to steely blue. Drip by drip it will change form. But I know now that nothing ever really changes. I am at this moment a singular point in time and space full of possibilities; condensed, trembling, unknowable, yet encompassing all that can be known. My history, will all it’s stories and emotions, will slowly sink to the bottom of a far off sea, eventually settling in a timeless place.
‘I’ am locked into a certain pace while I yearn to become aware of what is around me, that which is moving, as it will, at an infinite number of paces. I’ve only had treasured glimpses so far. this life, with its pace has a its delicately limited amount of time to feel, to breathe; expand…contract.
I step out into nothingness. This new life has little resemblance to the old life. I was given the old life; my parents, my family, my circumstances. My new life is not about circumstances. It’s about building every moment. ‘I’ am an ant moving boulder size grains of sand.