Life moves in increments along a convex slope.
Each experience is co-opted into the new reality.
Marked to market.
A rolling finish line.
The past gets reframed, revised, overwritten, erased.
The old you, just Caspars out.
I’ve been having the odd sensation that my avatar is being F5’d.
There is a sudden sense of reoccupation. As if you’ve come off the plane, and have been overtaken by your own wake.
And out of inner silence, this:
That life is fractal, and that the quality, grace and form of life emerges from the quality, grace and form with which you occupy each moment.
Destination is indistinguishable from journey.