on change

Just one question. Where has April gone, my friend? I’ll miss April, with her eighty-five degree, sunny days, and her pinky-orange morning skies. It is easy for me to get attached to things. Even a month, for Lord’s sake.

     Here’s exciting news. I have gone and done it. By it, I mean bought a new camera. A good one. I am nervous to use it. It was pricey; spending over a hundred bucks on one item makes me queasy. Did I make the right choice? Will it live up to my expectations?  Also, I’m feeling a certain loyalty to Sony Cyber-shot: my precious. But tomorrow, I will start getting to know new camera. I’ve decided to call her Agnes. Wish me luck.

     The whole camera thing brings home how hard change is. I’ve traditionally not been good with it. I like to know what to expect. Or at least I did until recently when a mini-revelation shifted my perspective.

   
     I used to go around trying to do whatever I could to avoid the unexpected, and thus to keep old man trouble at bay. Fruitless, obviously, but a well-ingrained habit until recently. I suddenly realized this pattern, and how dumb and stressful it is. The past year has held more change than I’ve ever dealt with as an adult. Left my job of fifteen years, youngest daughter launched into adulthood, the accident & all that involved.

     At a certain point, I realized the amount of energy I was wasting resisting change and fretting about it. I let go, realizing that change happens, so I might as well concentrate on being open to it. This is so much more do-able; exciting even, once you start to get the hang of it. The revelation was half of the solution. The rest was a conscience decision to make specific changes: to start trusting my ability to handle whatever comes along (I am woman, hear me roar); to practice calm, mostly with breathing; to humbly bow before my God; to learn as many new skills as possible, thus increasing my resourcefulness; and to focus on living at peace in this very moment. It helps to imagine myself as a willow tree with strong roots. I guess I’m a literal thinker, cause I have to picture that tree often.

     This whole thing might sound glib and cinchy, but it’s actually a slow process of learning day-by-day. Some days are challenging. Some are thrilling. It gets easier. If you’re dealing with a challenge, an unwelcome change perhaps, don’t panic. Trust. It will get better. It might even get fantastic, eventually.

One last poem to close out National Poetry Month. Thank you for reading.

         Easy

It’s easy to tear down,

     harder to build.

Easy to take,

     harder to give.

Easy to glide - arms slack,

     harder to paddle back.

Easy, so easy to cry,

     harder still to die.

                   -Kimberly Laustsen

Just a comment on this poem. I love it when authors explain lyrics or poems, so thought I'd say a bit about this. The first part,of course means it's so simple to pontificate and rant about problems. The hard thing is to take actions, even small ones to improve the situation. You can complain about pollution or blight, for example, but perhaps it is better to just walk down to your local park and pick up the trash. You can complain about the schools, but it might be better to tutor a child or volunteer in the library. The last line does not mean die actually, just die to yourself: to do what is best for the other person, even if it is not what you want, or what is easiest. For example, that's the part of parenting that lots of folks miss; the nuts and bolts of it; but there is really no other choice if you want to see your kids soar on their own power. That's the whole point, and in the end, the best thing of all.