Changes…
I have been thinking about something this morning: Why is it that so many of us, and I include myself in this group, seem to have such a fear of change? I’m talking about changing the little things, like what kind of breakfast cereal we eat; and the bigger things, like our country’s healthcare system. This isn’t going to be a political commentary, it’s just that the healthcare debate is so much in the news right now, it’s hard to avoid.
Even the so-called little things in life seem to trip us up. We get into particular patterns of behavior and create scenarios in our minds about the way our lives are supposed to look, and then any time an opportunity for change comes along, we freeze in our tracks, not knowing quite what to do next.
This even happens when we have been feeling the need for change. Even when we know that the way our life has been going just won’t work anymore, we still tend to avoid making any change in the status quo. The old phrases “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and “look before you leap,” spring to mind and we keep holding onto that old dead bird instead of taking the chance on the beautiful live one calling to us. Sure, we need to look, but we can’t forget to leap!
As I write these words, I am enjoying a beautiful summer morning on my back deck. I look out over my back yard and can see green grass, roses in bloom, and trees covered in leaves. It’s a very nice scene to be sure, but I also realize that it is not permanent. I know that in a couple of months, the blooms will wither from the roses, the grass will turn to brown, and the leaves on the trees will turn and then eventually fall to the ground. This is change, isn’t it?
Yet, at the same time, I know that spring will follow the winter and bring with it new blooms, new blades of grass, and new leaves for the trees. I don’t fear the changing of the seasons nor do I mourn the loss of the summer growth because I know that summer, like everything else in the natural world, is impermanent as well as cyclical.
We grieve the losses in our lives and we fear letting go of what we have because we fail to understand that nothing is permanent while nothing is ever truly lost either. Those blooms and leaves will become compost that feeds the plants that bore them. Likewise, our personal experiences, even our possessions, become the fertile ground from which we grow our lives. Sometimes we have to let go of even the beauty we have to reap the benefit it was always meant to bring.
“Enjoy the summer,” I tell myself, “as well as the seasons to follow. But let each of them go so that the next one can come.” Blessed be.
