Like the nearly imperceptible emergence of the pre-dawn light, our lives grow forth.

There's that zone of indeterminacy, pure anticipation, when all that might and will eventually happen is contained in an undifferentiated potentiality, a mass of everything and nothing all at once, unspeakable, yet intensely felt.

It's a space between the has-been and the not-yet, a space between but also incorporating both in a tension experienced as anticipatory energy, as promise.

That moment where there's no clear line between the total darkness of night and the stark reveal of full daylight. Where each moment seems to beckon the arrival of the new, but the arrival is postponed in the moment it might otherwise appear. Where time isn't experienced as a series of discrete instants, but a swirling dance of starts and stops, bursts and withholdings, a teasing bubbling of energies that rolls back into itself as it pretends to spill over into the light of day.

It is in this space, this moment, this in-between, this everything and nothing, all at once, this surging standstill of time and potentiality, that we live.

Then, now, forever. Dawning. Forever more.

This is life.