The Evolution of Presence: A Journey on the Sea Cliffs

There was a pivotal moment in my life when I realized that being present, truly in the moment, evolves over time. As I grow older, my sense of presence shifts and deepens. It’s not that I have become more present; rather, I feel different.

I vividly remember sitting on the sea cliffs, gazing out across the endless expanse of water. The ocean, with its constant churning and unfathomable depths, used to ignite a sense of wild excitement in me. My heart would race, adrenaline would surge through my veins, and my brain would tingle with the thrill of it all. In those fleeting moments, I felt connected, confident, and intensely present.

But now, in later life, the sea cliffs and the water hold a different meaning. Perhaps it’s because I’ve stood here many times before. Maybe it’s due to my deeper understanding of the ocean and the cliffs, my knowledge of how to navigate them safely. Or it could be the recognition of my own limitations and the tangible reality of my mortality.

The one undeniable truth is that I linger longer in these moments of presence now. I seek out the intimate details. Where I once saw the water as a monstrous force of chaotic energy that left me breathless and overwhelmed, I now find myself patiently studying the view, absorbing it without expectation.

This shift doesn’t necessarily mean I am more present; it signifies that I have changed. And by writing this, I acknowledge and accept that change.

With this acceptance, I feel a familiar surge of magic, reminiscent of my younger days. Embracing change allows me to leave the old behind and look forward to the vast, chaotic energy of the unknown that lies ahead.

How did I come to this realization? I sat on the sea cliffs, looking out at the water, and the waves whispered their timeless wisdom to me.