Change is not a process. Change is a fissure.

We like to imagine change as: phases, predictable steps, a clear line forward.

But when you're inside it, it’s something else entirely.

It’s tight, narrow and much denser than a clear path.

It’s a fissure you pass through by taking the deepest breath,

holding it longer than you thought possible, seeing only a few inches ahead,

and firmly trusting this is the only place you could possibly be right now.

Not because it’s comfortable.

But because it’s true.

And, your survival kit?

Standing still in the squeeze,

shedding what you no longer need — layer by layer,

protecting the patience for what truly matters

— realizing you need far less than you once believed.

Change isn’t a process. It’s a narrow passage that asks:

What must you lose?

What can you keep?