The world will never be the same again, they say.
And that is true.
But mostly because it has always been that way.
There’s nothing but change and flux and flow, all the time, always.
Or is there?
Our minds can masterfully pretend that everything is just the same.
That today is exactly like yesterday.
That life is a drag.
That living on autopilot is an obligation.
And that, in the end, we’re simply repeating ourselves straight into our graves.
As long as we’re caught up in patterns and habits and memories, it will very much look that way.
As long as we thínk life instead of living it, we’ll keep on waking up on Groundhog Day.
Being a grownup is a marvel-killer, a curiosity-cruncher.
Once we’ve seen a flower, we’ve seen them all.
It’s just a bee.
It’s only a cloud (who cares).
It’s nothing more than another day in another year in the same old life.
The wonder of being, covered in a tired layer of blasé.
But then, one day, you might fall out of your head.
Straight back into awe.
And the world will never be the same.