I often feel like the world, and I, will always be the way we are now: sadness, joy, challenge, pain, or those particular nice warm fuzzies. Sometimes the powerful moments, powerful because I'm paying attention, not because something important is happening, feel unending and unchanging. I am happy now; this happiness fills me with light extending out to the last molecules of my fingernails; this is such a perfect example of me being happy that it must last forever. In the back of my mind I carry the awareness of change, but who cares? I have my moments now. I have my life, which I must live. I will live the change later.

It's distressing to find, after years of work and even superficially apparent change, that we can simply repeat our old patterns, maybe with less damage and in a short amount of time, but still the old patterns. I guess that's progress, and that will have to suffice, because it's done. A week or two is definitely better than months, or years.

And so the cycle turns and world looks like sad for a little while. Bah. I thought I'd stopped dating because of this, and then...not so much. Oh well. Nothing is out of place.