June 13
Living and dying are a coming and going. Whoever takes change as home drifts freely with the current and does not wrestle with the water.
The True Book of the Welling Primal Source (freely rendered)
Listening mode
Living and dying are a coming and going. Whoever takes change as home drifts freely with the current and does not wrestle with the water.
A voice you know well is one you recognise even when it is hoarse, tired or in the middle of a laugh. It never sounds the same twice. It becomes familiar to you precisely through its departures: the way it grows quieter before bad news, and the way it sits a little lower after a long day.
So familiarity doesn't mean that something stays as it is. Rather, you know in which directions it can move. This kind of change you live with gladly, usually without calling it that.
Harder is a change that no longer happens within something but ends it. A voice that ages, you can accompany. That one day it no longer calls is not one of its fluctuations. If you resist that, it is no misunderstanding.
Perhaps it is still saved somewhere, from some entirely ordinary day, a little tired, a little cheerful. Which version would be the real one, you couldn't say.
