In every instant there’s dying and coming back around./ Muhammad said, This world// is a moment, a pouring that refreshes and renews itself so/ rapidly it seems continuous,// as a burning stick taken from the fire looks like a golden/ wire when you swirl// it in the air, so we feel duration as a string of sparks.

Rumi

This world is a moment. I know that to be true. That is true in the way that one day a child is born and the next day they are driving a car. That is true in the way it is always just about to be Christmas. That is true in the way it never feels quite right that I am older than 25. I can count on one hand the times when life has felt like a string of sparks — like a fire dance on golden wire. I am grateful for those times in the same way the flower thanks the sun, the symphony thanks the orchestra, and the chocolate chip thanks the cookie. I have to stop and breathe to stop the cycle of burning it all down and building it back up, of always driving past what matters, of saying “next.” It seems important not to miss the moment.