Away We Stay: State Change
A frosty June morning. Sun is just very barely over the edge of the peaks.
A skirt of ice covers the sage, the grass, and the bravest of flowers. I am present, as my feet move so much slower than I want, at the precise moment the frost lets go. Each crystal transforms into water and it takes only the briefest of seconds. All it took was the touch of the sun.
“This pivot point is encased in a drop of water. In a shift of mere degrees, in a slice of radiation.”
How often do you get to witness the exact moment of a state change?
I have been present for thousands of transitions but witness very few of them. I have passed millions of blades of grass with droplets suspended on their tips after the sun told them to wake up, warm up. My eyes saw them but my brain didn't even process. Attention and awareness being elsewhere.
How much is out there waiting to be transformed during the day and brought back to solid at night? How many times have I walked by?
What of my states would have to change to have noticed?
This pivot point is encased in a drop of water. In a shift of mere degrees. In a slice of radiation. Perhaps mine are more gradual. Perhaps they’re not. For one moment this morning I melted with the frost. I’m certain I’ll miss the rest of mine that will happen today, but I was here for at least this one.
Inspired by events at Little Dell Recreation Area, Utah
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