I used to wonder constantly:  Can we really change our fate in this lifetime?

The answer was always hidden in dimension.  It depends on how I define the “end.”

Am I measuring life by the scale of a single lifetime,  or by the scale of many lifetimes?

If I only look at one lifetime,  then of course the result seems fixed.  Birth, aging, illness, death, the arc feels predetermined.

But once the perspective stretches wider,  across many cycles,  the “result” of this lifetime is no longer a result.

It becomes an anchor point.

A coordinate for positioning not a final chapter carved in stone.  An anchor can be moved, rewritten,  even reinterpreted.

The pain of repeatedly understanding partial truths and then overturning my own definitions was never about losing freedom.  It was about forgetting about shrinking my view back to the narrow scale of a single life.

Those circles I walked in the lower layers were not wasted.

Every explanation I once believed was merely temporary self-comfort was actually supporting me through stretches of road I was not yet strong enough to walk.

They were not lies. They were stage-specific tools.

So when they were dismantled, I felt sticky, uncomfortable, desperate to find the next shell.

But now I understand it wasn’t because I was wrong.  It was because I had finally reached a place where I no longer needed a shell.

This life is not a game where I must desperately rewrite the ending.

It is more like a harbor where I temporarily dock within countless voyages.

The anchor drops not to keep me there forever, but to remind me that I have once arrived here.



—— XC Scribbles · 壹佰肆拾肆 CXLIV 🐣