Transforming Matters

I grew up traveling, never staying in one place too long.

Being with parents whose work leads them from one place to the next, I practically grew up on the streets. And there’s only one way you can survive there.

You have to adapt. You have to learn the art of transforming yourself to different sets of pieces. Each mutating part easily retractable at will.

They say a kid should always have a home whose land he could grow his roots on. A solid ground that would become the foundation to make his bearings firm. And a kid who never had a permanent home or a place he could call one would always end up becoming a traveler all his life.

One who will always hit the road wandering ’til he run out of dust.

True, I have traveled a lot, wandered a lot. I even ate my share of dust. Difference is, no matter how many places I went and stayed, they all became my home. Even for a time. I have placed my roots in all of them even as I embraced them as my own. You see, I wasn’t merely passing by. I was up for engagement.

I might have been a stranger at first, but I have lived in these places like I was literally born and raised there. And looking back, quite even more so than the locals that sometimes it raises some issues that is of uncomfortable to them.

I have lived and loved over and over and over. I also have died and lied far too many times over. The downside is that each and every lie leaves you life scars that forever haunts your guilt and reminds you how you erred. The good thing is that after all those things of the past, no matter how many times you’ve died, you still have the courage to rise and start another.

On and on. That’s just the way it is.

But all these are temporary. Nothing is permanent. Not even death. The truth is that nothing really dies anyway. Things, just over time, transform itself from one form to another, one state to the next, onto a different set of vibration level.

All matter is a transforming matter. Every bubble I’ve seen would burst, transforming each miniature balloons into a string of throbbing atoms in infinite space. All forms, known or not, would eventually decay. And all our petty human bickering wouldn’t matter, simply because our arguments of every shade would fade.

So live and love. Argue passionately but fairly. Treat each day like you won’t have another. Make mistakes, many mistakes, so you can learn from them. Evolve.

Us and everything in it, exists in the now. Take those pathetic human worries away. Because whatever the future holds, if it comes, may be different from what we expect it to be. The truth of the matter is, we are merely particles transforming and transporting ourselves between realms.

Soon and again, my soul would wander, my consciousness shall transform itself to yet another. But that’s okay.

‘Coz we all are just transforming matter.

On Wobbled Knees
Cognitive Dissonance on the End of Days

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