What is happening?

Nothing is happening.
Everything is happening.
My knees are stiffening.
My temple is pulsating at a rate so slow it feels like a blow up toy that is being sat on and all the air is leaking out slowly making a really quite tormented squealing sound.
My temple is not, however, making that sound.
And the whole situation is not painful really at all, it just feels so odd.

Sometimes (often enough to last four months) I feel so disconnected from this medium that it becomes a nemesis to me, taunting and mocking me for I cannot see the expansion and unfolding of white space like I do a blank sheet of paper. I cannot feel it like I do the lead of a pencil. And yet it lasts, and its presence is proof alone my voice thrives here.

I have been renewing my relationship with process lately.

That is what is happening.