Change is not a process. Change is a fissure.

Change is often described as a process.
Something we can move through in phases, with a clear sense of direction.

But when you are inside it, it feels different.

Tight. Narrow. Dense.

A fissure. Not a path.

A space where you can only see a few inches ahead.
Where movement is limited.
Where the usual ways of moving no longer work.

You don't move through it by pushing forward.
You move through it by staying.

By taking the deepest breath,
holding it for longer than you thought possible,
and trusting that this is the only place you could possibly be right now.

By allowing what no longer fits to fall away, layer by layer.
By realizing you need far less than you once believed.

Not because it is comfortable.
But because it is true.

Change is not a process.
It is a narrow passage – a fissure – that asks:

What must you let go of?
What is still yours to carry?