The Endless Process of Becoming
13.7 billion years (give or take 59 million). That’s how old the universe is.
In those billions of years the universe has continued to expand, create, collapse and rebirth. It is, by nature, in an endless state of becoming.
The universe, of course, is a macro scale, but no matter which scale you look upon, the process is mirrored.
There is no static state, no pause on growth—the pause button only works on electronics, not on lifetimes.
Life enlivens and expands ad infinitum.
So what does that mean?
The endless state of becoming signifies all sorts of comforting conclusions.
You’re never done, and not in a tiresome lay me down ‘cause I’m never gonna get there kind of a way, but in a pressure’s off people you have the gift of again and another go. Again and another go—for your entire life. Breathe, yes.
It signifies that judgement is a wasted endeavor, because how can you accurately judge something which continues to shift and change? Life is a moving target and judgement is a misdirected arrow that wounds.
It allows you the privilege of reflection and direction—do you like what you’ve become, do you delight in who you’re becoming? If we were static, those reflections wouldn’t matter because they’d be immutable and therefore irrelevant.
It’s exciting and awe inspiring. Nobody really knows what the future has in store, but we can direct the foundation of it—are you becoming from a state of joy and faith, or fear and stress? Which do you choose? How will you shift?
The endless state of becoming means we have choice—free will. With will comes power.
As I’ve traveled my twisty turny path in this human body, I have shed skins like snakes, looking for my fit. I’ve shed in success and in tribulation. I’ve shed in faith and fear.
But, no matter what, I choose to walk this path of becoming as a warrior, eyes open willing to look, even when the looking bruises my heart and catapults me into the misty realm of I don’t know—a more shadowed place, I’ve never been, where nothing there is quite illuminated.
There is a natural void in a the process of becoming, where I don’t know is the only conclusion, and we’ve got to have the fortitude to say, Hey man, that’s alright, clarity is on it’s way and I will keep my eyes open to greet it.
When you accept the I don’t know as a curious friend, its temporal nature becomes apparent and the conclusion of its companionship inevitable.
The greatest gift I’ve received in life has been the knowledge that following the feelings, that true knowing deep within which urge me forward into choice—even when I’m battered and sore, or the choice is illogical and my brain begs for soothing certainty—will never lead me astray. It might not be comfortable, but it can never be wrong.
When I move forward, trusting not the outcome, but the process, I am set free. The outcomes tend to manage themselves and looking back the neon filaments connect the (at the time) disjointed events of life, making a beautiful tapestry of understanding.
If we could in the moment know that the tapestry is being woven on our behalf, then we could more easily trust the process, instead of manhandle the outcome.
We could have faith that becoming is what it’s about.
Take a look at your tapestry, you’ll see that it’s true, then perhaps you can find that fine filament leading you on to a choice laden with joy.
Love and seeking,
