Our various experiences overlap and interact ~ tapestries hung on the walls of our lives.
Sometimes they are woven whole, without a hitch or knot to interrupt the surface. Other times, they encounter wear as we go along: a spot here, a snag there. And, not too often we hope, a complete tear rips through the fabric we so carefully put on display. Threads are left hanging, in a vain attempt to soften the edges, but the rent has been made. A whole new effort will be called for, to deal with this change, this fissure between what was and what now is.
But even after you have integrated and shifted, there is no ultimate finish line you can count on, no complacency to rest on, like a big stuffed chair. Yet again, warp and weft will be laid down in their infinite varieties of colour and pattern. Who knows if even death will halt the process. Perhaps it is just a different kind of loom.
Any transition serious enough to alter your definition of self will require not just small adjustments in your way of living and thinking but a full-on metamorphosis.