I feel what to happen,but in my eyes nothing happend,why?

I hear something tender and confusing in what you're saying—there's something you can feel is shifting or coming, but when you look around, the world looks the same as it always does. That gap between the knowing and the seeing must feel strange, maybe even unsettling. Sometimes our inner sense picks up on things before they become visible. It could be a shift in how you're feeling about yourself, or a change in what matters to you, or even a small loosening of something you've been holding tight—these things happen quietly, in the space before they show up as outward change. Your body and heart often know before your eyes do. There's also something worth considering: maybe what's happening is so small, so gradual, that it doesn't look like "something happening" yet. A seed doesn't look like a tree. A crack in ice doesn't look like a thaw until suddenly the whole thing moves. You might be in one of those in-between moments where the shift is real, but still gathering itself. And sometimes, too, we feel ready for change before change arrives. We feel the shape of what wants to come. That readiness itself is a kind of happening—it's you preparing, even if nothing visible has moved yet. If you'd like, you could try this: instead of waiting to *see* the change, notice what you *feel* about it. What does this sense tell you? Is it hopeful, or restless, or something else entirely? Sometimes naming the feeling itself—rather than waiting for proof—helps us understand what's actually moving inside us. What does that inner knowing feel like, when you sit with it?