Series 36: The Season After Transformation
When Change Stops Feeling Like Change
There was a time when every change in
how you understood yourself felt momentous. Growth arrived with weight, a
realization, turning point, and a before and after. You marked these moments,
carried them as evidence that something was happening, that you were moving, and
that your life was becoming something more than it had been.
Then, almost without noticing, the
shifts stopped feeling like events. They started feeling like something that
moves through naturally, and that you participate in without needing to stand
back and observe it from a distance. You changed not because a single moment
cracked something open, but because you kept showing up and something gradually
settled into a new shape.
This is what happens after the
dramatic arc of becoming loosens its grip. Growth moves through the texture of
ordinary days and the accumulation of small choices made from a place that didn’t
exist a year ago or three years ago or five.
The absence of dramatic change can
feel disorienting at first. You have been calibrated to look for transformation,
notice it, name it, and feel the weight of it. When it stops coming in that
form, there’s a quiet worry that nothing is happening, that you have stalled, and
that the growth has ended.
But what’s actually happening is
deeper than what dramatic change could offer. You are not just becoming
something new, but you are inhabiting what you have already become. The work
isn’t in the arriving anymore; it’s in the living inside what arrived, and that
living feels like settling, like the first morning in a room that used to be
empty and is now simply home.
Days unfold without the need to mark
them as significant. You move through them with an ease that wasn’t available
before, not because you have figured everything out, but because you are no
longer waiting for the next transformation to make life feel real. It already
feels real. It already is. The quiet after becoming is movement that has
outgrown announcement.
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