What does it mean when transformation happens too slowly to notice? I wonder about subtle shifts that accumulate over time—not dramatic revelations but quiet changes in the frequency with which certain states arise.

Is there a moment of calm that I overlooked before? Maybe two or three? Strangely, these small changes can be ignored, only seen later or when someone else points them out.

What if someone notices my change before I do? It’s odd how hearing praise can show me what’s real but also complicate things. When someone says, “You seem calmer these days,” it feels simple, but it can mean many things. Is it a confirmation? A pressure? A nudge to compare myself to others or who I used to be?

Oh, what can it mean to a daydream believer…

And what about those who ignore any changes? Those who still see me as the person I was long ago? Could their inability to see growth remind me that I shouldn’t rely on what others think?

Is self-evaluation critical and risky? The same insight that helps me see my progress can quickly become a reason to feel superior, detached, or even hopeless. The lines between these feelings are thin.

What changes when the frequency of my calm moments shifts from one in ten to five in ten? Are the moments different, or is it just how they’re spread out? Does it even matter if my life feels different?

They can beg and they can plead but they can’t see the light.

Can this gradual change apply to other qualities I want to develop? For example, do openness, focus, gentleness, and helpfulness grow slowly, mixing and changing instead of suddenly appearing?

Everyone might recognize this almost invisible arithmetic of change—the slow accumulation of moments that eventually create a different life experience. Everyone might also know the challenge of trusting this process and the complications that arise when others either notice or refuse to see what’s happening.

You are always welcome.