THE CONSTELLATIONS OF THOUGHT 4: THE SHAPE BETWEEN WHO I WAS AND WHO I BECAME
THE SHAPE OF BECOMING
THIS ESSAY IS A SUBMISSION TO A FRIEND’S MAGAZINE. I BECAME SO INVOLVED WITH THE PERSON I MET WRITING THIS ESSAY AND THE MEANING I PUT INTO THIS ESSAY. I COULDN’T STOP MYSELF FROM POSTING IT HERE.
By the time this is in place, my internal season of spring will sprout new leaves. I will already be holding onto something new, filled with a substance not yet known. I will follow the science of recognizing how I am changing. This change happens moment by moment, without me trying to stick my hands in the way of any force or impact. This process is a means of finding a new shape and form. Impact is inevitable, but also a continuous flow. Transformation needs us to engage with seasons, space, temperature, wisdom, and experience. The observer and the observed must interact for this transformation to happen. Existence shifts from a void to a tangible object and finally to my own conscious presence. All events occur in succession. The full extent of my change rests in the point of view. It takes a climb to the top of my own hill to look down at the change I have made.
How does the butterfly ever adjust to no longer being a caterpillar? I would suggest it adjust by forgiving itself in advance for forgetting who and what it was. My change is through innocence, by understanding that “was” is still the now. This continuity is part of the slippery slope of being. My dreams of being a professional athlete were too rooted in physical control. I only realized this once the dream stopped driving me and I had to face what came next. Better yet, I faced the impact of a young boy coming face-to-face with the real world. My change happens within the world as I crash, splash, and collide with everyone else. A wrong turn led me to the right path. This detour was the key reason I lost my virginity at fourteen. That changed all my versions.
My past will always claim a part of me, fading from my life yet still shaping my future. I will show change by sharing my transformation and the sacrifices I made to get here. This history still carries weight; it exists simultaneously for every version of myself. Forgiving myself in advance gives me the grace to evolve. It grounds my change in the principles of emotion, discipline, and morality. I still love many things—basketball, trees, food, and books—but I still struggle with science and math. Yet my interactions within those spaces have deepened my understanding of my purpose. That purpose is to remain open and fluid, releasing the need for a fixed objective so change can happen. This purpose shifts based on my beliefs or the truths I seek in that moment. Joan of Arc was a turning point for me. She was ready to die for the beliefs that others doubted. She ruled her own spirit completely, yet remained bound by the duty and violence of her calling. She embraced both outer and inner self-innovation until the very end.