The Seeming Permanence Of The Passing Moment

Never stops surprising me

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I’d expect to have gotten a little better over the years at remembering that this too shall pass. But when I’m down, I seem constitutionally incapable of believing that I’ll ever feel good again.

I’m thinking about how little kids live. They are completely delighted licking their ice cream. Then they drop it, and they‘re screaming. Then you give them yours and they are immediately happy again, like nothing ever happened.

I guess when we are little, and upsetting things happen that can not be either fixed or understood as manageable with the help of some loving relation, trauma results. I think that happens a lot to a lot of us. Maybe this is what has left me perpetually in this juvenile state of fleeting permanence, without having any innate overriding sense that there will be a way back.

Or maybe there’s some other reason I just never grew up. On the bright side, I suppose there’s still time.