"Don’t Play Small—A Bigger Version of You Is Waiting."

Think about this, old friend.

You are not being assembled from fragments of nothingness.

You are not under construction.

You are not late.

You are being selected.

Moment by moment, breath by breath,

you are chosen from a vast library of possibilities

that has always existed.

The confident you wait patiently,

calm, confident of your arrival.

The successful version of you hangs quietly in the unseen closet of reality,

tailored, pressed, and ready—

just waiting for you to reach in and finally put it on.

The radiant, calm you hums beneath the noise, a steady current beneath the surface turbulence, never absent—only unheard. 

And what about the creative you?

It has never stopped knocking.

Not once. It waits at the door with paint on its hands and light in its eyes, patiently trusting that someday you will open it and realize who’s been calling the entire time. 

Nothing is missing here.

Nothing has gone wrong.

Nothing needs to be forced.

You are not growing late in your life—you're only recalling which version of yourself you are, 

that has been waiting nearest the door.

Nothing new is being created. An eternal essence is being adjusted. 

Why This Version Shows Up

You ask—quietly or in frustration, why this version of me? Why now? Why again?

Because attention is active. 

Attention involves selecting.

In quantum physics, a particle isn't simply a thing; it exists as a question—

a wave of maybes, a cloud of could-bes—until it is observed.

Then—

collapse.

Form.

Here.

Your consciousness functions the same way. 

The version of you going through your life isn't who you truly are.

It is who you are looking at. 

Beliefs are lenses.

Expectations serve as tuning forks.

And the subconscious—faithful and tireless—is the projector casting the image it has been given onto the screen of reality.

You are not trapped. You are tuned in to the subconscious signal.

Picture your subconscious as an old radio receiver—warm dials, glowing face, no opinions. 

It does not dispute the signal.

It does not correct the broadcast.

It simply plays the station it is tuned to.

If the frequency is limited, it plays the limitation.

If the signal is becoming, it adjusts without complaint.

And when knowing takes the place of hoping—not wishing or forcing, but truly understanding—the signal becomes clearer. 

The body reacts accordingly.

 The emotions align. 

Circumstances shift their furniture. Not because they were persuaded—but because they were informed. 

Energy remembers.

Physics, in its subtle way, reveals an ancient truth: Energy is never created. 

Energy never ceases to exist. It only changes form.

So the “new you” is not forged from raw material.

It shifts into view.

As attention shifts,

as intention sharpens,

as expectation eases into certainty,

energy reorganizes itself.

From the quantum field—pure potential—to the ethereal-astral plane—image, thought, feeling,

to the physical world—experience, action, and form.

Nothing supernatural.

And yet—everything is miraculous.

The Gentle Mechanics of Change

You don't wrestle yourself into a new identity.

You don't strain.

You don't chase.

You don't compete.

You befriend the version of yourself that already exists.

You imagine it.

You think from it.

You feel as if it were real.

You expect it as though its presence were reasonable—

ordinary even.

And then… reality shifts.

Quietly. Subtly.

Like furniture moved in the dark.

Because the universe does not respond to effort.

It responds to coherence.

The final turn of the spiral

And here—dear friend—

here comes the reveal hidden in plain sight:

You are not just choosing a version of yourself from the field.

Maybe, just maybe, you are the field.

Observing itself through a human lens.

Perhaps...you are an infinite being observing itself through a finite instrument...

Through the limitations of the mind. 

Consider the sky... it never moves with the clouds.

Perhaps the drop was never separate from the ocean,

it only forgot which current it was riding.

Or perhaps it forgot itself as the ocean and began dreaming of itself as a drop, separate and apart.

Shift the focus, old friend.

And the wave shifts.

Only then will form follow.

Suddenly—

with a gentle laugh and a deep recall—

you realize:

You were never becoming something new.

You were remembering

what was already waiting for you.