(If you haven’t yet journeyed through Yesterday I Died, this reflection is your next step. Inspired by that poem’s profound exploration of transformation and rebirth, this piece delves deeper into the eternal cycle of becoming. If you’re curious about the thoughts that gave rise to this prose, start with Yesterday I Died and discover the origins of this meditation on life, death, and renewal. Each word is a continuation of the journey that began there, inviting you to step into the rhythm of constant renewal and self-discovery.)
Tomorrow, I will be born again.
This thought lingers in my mind, not as a sudden revelation but as a quiet, persistent truth that has been growing within me. There’s a sense of inevitability in it, yet it’s not something I approach with haste. No, this is a thought that needs to be savored, unraveled slowly, like a delicate thread leading me somewhere deep within myself.
What does it mean to be “born again”? It’s a phrase that’s often tossed around, yet I find myself returning to it with fresh eyes. It’s not about some grand, external transformation—at least not for me. It’s about something more intimate, more internal. It’s about waking up each day with the awareness that who I was yesterday does not bind me, that I have the power to start anew, to become something different, something more aligned with the truth of who I am in this moment.
I was there—in yesterday—but never truly here, until now.
There’s a certain weight to yesterday. It’s filled with memories, choices, actions that have brought me to where I am now. But as I sit here, breathing in this moment, I realize that yesterday is just that—a place I once occupied but no longer live in. I am always here, in this moment. And this moment… it’s unique, isn’t it? It’s as if it has never existed before, and yet, it feels eternal, like it’s always been here, waiting for me to notice it.
Today is fully mine.
I feel this truth settling into my bones. Today, this day, is entirely mine to shape. There’s a kind of quiet power in that realization. It’s not about control or dominance, but about possibility. What will I make of today? How will I move through it in a way that honors not just myself, but you, and everyone whose lives touch mine?
I’ve come to see that today is more than just another day on the calendar. It’s not a random occurrence or a simple continuation of yesterday. No, today feels intentional, like a premeditated appointment with life itself. I’ve agreed to be here, to show up fully, to participate in this day as if it were crafted specifically for me. And in some way, it was.
This day was made by a perfectionist, and in that realization, I ask myself—how could I be anything but that? How could I live beneath the intention that has gone into creating this moment? There’s a quiet challenge here, a call to rise to the occasion, to meet this day with the fullness of who I am.
Today, I walk with God.
Would that be You? This thought brings a deep sense of peace. It’s not a loud proclamation, but a gentle understanding that I am not alone. I walk with God—not in the way that I’ve been taught to think about it, but in a way that feels deeply personal, almost tender. Immanuel—God with us. It’s a name, a promise, a presence that I carry with me.
We are here together, walking through this day side by side. And as I think back, I realize that yesterday, I made a quiet agreement with myself to agree today—to be present, to walk this path with intention. There’s a sense of rhythm to it, a cadence that feels right, that feels timely. We walk, and right on time, we do it.
There’s no rush here, no need to hurry. There is only the One way—the way of being fully present, fully engaged with the life that is unfolding before me. And in this presence, I come to a deeper understanding: today, I AM. And today, I will die.
I always die today.
It’s not something to fear, this death. It’s not an end, but a necessary part of the cycle. Today is tomorrow’s yesterday, and yesterday, I let go of something—a belief, a habit, a version of myself that no longer serves me. In that letting go, there is death. But with that death comes the promise of something new. Tomorrow, I will live. I will be born again.
This cycle is not just a philosophical idea; it’s something I feel deeply in my soul. Every day, I die to the old and am reborn into the new. It’s a process that requires patience, trust, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. But it’s also a process that brings me closer to the truth of who I am and who I am becoming.
We have agreed, and we are One.
There’s a profound sense of unity in this realization. It’s as if I am not just walking through this life alone, but as part of something greater, something that transcends the individual moments and days. I’ve agreed to this—to be part of this cycle of life, death, and rebirth. And in that agreement, I find a deep sense of peace.
This is not a peace that comes from everything being perfect or easy, but a peace that comes from knowing that I am exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do. I am walking with God, with the divine, with the universe. We are One, and in that oneness, I find the strength to keep going, to keep transforming, to keep becoming the person I am meant to be.
This is the journey, and I am grateful to be on it. Grateful for the moments of clarity, the moments of doubt, the moments of transformation that shape me into who I am. I remind myself, as I take another breath, that today is my chance to live fully, to walk with intention, to die to the old and be reborn into the new. This is the eternal cycle of becoming, and I welcome it with open arms.
2 replies on “The Eternal Cycle of Becoming: A Journey into Time, Identity, and Spiritual Awakening”
Marquis,
This is profoundly important stuff! Just reading it today has shaken me from a stupor. I love you, my friend!
Thank you , Jim, for stopping by and perusing the site. I appreciate your support. Love you too.