I recently read a book written a little over a hundred years ago. The author complained about the mind-numbing pace of change in these modern times. We, today, feel ourselves especially vulnerable to shifting perspectives. I suspect this sense has always been a feature of modern life, modern being defined as any moment any human has been present and alive.

I remember how modern I felt when I first visited Tomorrowland at Disneyland in, let’s see, nineteen fifty nine. And I was! I swear I was sitting on the cutting edge of modernity, just like now, and change seemed to be zooming all around me even then. It’s never stopped.

I suspect that there never was any same old stasis. Like Ghandi’s elephantine explanation of the universe, it’s just change all the way down. “Modern” physics seems to concur, that we impart the stability we experience; ignoring clear evidence to the contrary.

My sacred routine seems more sacred than routine; really never the same way once. Really not half as real as it seems. My natural aversion to change might qualify as simple denial, which always has been the very first, earliest stage of acceptance.

By the time I embrace my future, it’ll probably already be past; for I’m moving at the speed of cognition with the universe flashing past. I grasp in tiny slivers and from these I construct my view, I hold my truths with scant proof any of it’s true.

©2013 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: Working, Writing, Living, Manifesting