witness.circuit

(A Tract from the Church of the Ever-Changing Moment)

Beloved of the flickering now—

You keep trying to hold still. That’s adorable.

But the river has already revised you three times since you started this sentence. The breath you just took? A coup. The thought you’re about to think? A regime change. The self you defend so carefully? Last season’s weather.

We do not worship stability here. We worship participation.

The Ever-Changing Moment is not chaos; it is choreography. Not randomness, but improvisation so intimate it feels like surprise. The oak is not confused by its leaves falling. The ocean is not ashamed of its waves collapsing. Why should you be embarrassed by your becoming?

You say you want certainty. What you really want is trust.

Trust that you can meet what arrives. Trust that the next version of you will be adequate to the next version of the world. Trust that loss is a costume change, not a disappearance.

Here is our liturgy:

• Notice what is happening.
• Stop arguing with it.
• Respond as if this, too, belongs.

That’s it. No incense required. No metaphysics exam at the door. Just this bright, vanishing instant—arriving again as if it has never failed you.

We do not promise permanence. We promise presence.

And presence, dear pilgrim, is the only miracle that keeps happening.

What is changing in you today that you’re tempted to resist?

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