Tessellation & Transformation

One time, someone said to me, “All the water that has ever been on Earth is still here.”

It stunned me that every drop we’ve cried or carried or bathed in or drank is still circling as vapor, mist, glacier, tide. Never gone. Just transformed.

And this morning, between sleep and waking, I felt the whisper of something older still: What if that’s true not just of water, but of us?

What if the essence we’re made of, the breath and bone and brilliance, never disappears, but just changes shape?

What if the ache you thought you buried, or the love you thought you lost, or the version of you that had to die to survive, what if they’re all still here moving through you like weather and pooling into new form. Reorganizing and tessellating into the next becoming.

Maybe nothing is ever truly gone. Maybe it’s just reorganized. Maybe the child you were became the tenderness you offer now. Maybe the friend you miss became the knowing in your gut. Maybe the place that held you became the voice in your dreams.

And maybe we don’t have to grieve the disappearance of everything. Maybe we can just learn to see differently. To recognize the soul of what was folded inside of what is. Because water never leaves. It only moves. It only shifts. It only rises in search of its next form.

And maybe so do we.