Things constantly move and change and change again. Mutability. Poets around the world have different names for the same phenomena of constant change, for moments that are transient, mutable, impermanent, ephemeral, evanescent. Poems about mutability are tinged with sadness, the pang of loss. Something beautiful was here, for a moment, but now it is gone. The constant motion is not only outside but also inside of you. The sparrow overhead may gently startle you, making your heart jump. The clouds passing overhead may introduce feelings of awe. As you open up to receive this, you have created space inside of you, your emotions begin to move more freely, in concert with the actions swarming around you. In fact, what’s inside of you seems as much a part of everything as the things outside of you. Your emotions reflect what’s going on outside.