Change was a friend of mine, a pal and a confidant. It was natural, like curiosity. Change made sunny days unendingly interesting and starlit nights constantly new.
Change is a way of life. It’s a way of staying alive. It’s not just adapting. It’s reaching and grasping, and wandering through moments, each newly-made gemstone, a wild sighting of a dancing star being born, being made from the chaos around me. Change could pull me forward and hold me on a path that I did not need to see. It was direction. It was destiny. It was my goal and form. Change was not an idea. Change was part of me. Change was real, like bricks and mortar.
Then I heard myself say, “Sometimes a rut is a comfortable place to be.” I heard how easily I said those words and thought, Is it true? Is that what I believe? My answer was Yes I think so.
Change makes me weary and takes my feet off the ground. I’m finding the ground is a fine place to stand. People talk to me much more easily, when I’m not constantly moving around, when I'm not changing identities.
I never thought I might say that change is something I’d rather not take a part in.
These days new beginnings don’t seem new to me. They all look like ones that I’ve already gone after. Each new beginning means leaving investment behind, starting over again.
Beginnings are incredibly trying, trying to fit, trying to see, trying to show, trying to find a place while not taking up someone else’s spot, trying to say who I am, and reveal what is what.
I remember how I once felt about change. Now I can’t find many ways that it feels right. Am I afraid? Change means saying good-bye. Change means wondering if I will be lost in the shuffle again.
I thought Change was my friend, but it was more my chalkboard − something to entertain me, to keep me from being bored − a tool to figure who I am, who I want to be. Now I know, and I don't need to draw anymore.
I’ve changed how I think about change.
I don't want every new beginning to be the start of an ending.
−me strauss Letting me be