Waves of Change
I am sitting in a bustling cafe downtown—the sound of plates being stacked and silverware being organized sounds sharply against the roar of chitchat behind me. The sun is streaming in through the front windows, I am sat at a cute little bistro table, reminiscent of a French cafe, a box of baked goods prepped for me to take home, my journal and pen strewn across the table, and I find myself feeling a sense of peace.
I have a tendency to get stuck in my routine, to go to the same workout classes at the same time, go to the same restaurants and coffee shops, to do the same morning routine typically in the same room on the same chair. There is nothing wrong with routine, in fact I thrive on the routine, however, that routine has held me back recently allowing me to distract myself from practices that I want to implement. Such as my creative works, especially writing.
I have had a lovely new friend come into my life, she has shaken things up for me in the best possible way. Encouraging me to get out of my routines, try new yoga instructors, go to different coffee shops and restaurants. She has challenged me to spend my weekends doing something more than just laying on the couch. The gift of new friendship is new perspective, a fresh take on how we can live a life.
The winter was rough on me. It was cold, it was dark, morale was low as was my energy. I was stuck in routines that had stopped serving me, I kept getting sick, and it was dark. The turn of the season brought sunshine that quickly turned to heat, life all around us that had been fast asleep began to awaken, I slowed down enough to actually witness the bloom of greenery on trees—watching with wonder as it went from tender little sprigs to an explosion of life.
Turns out sunshine does heal.
Yesterday, I picked up a journal from my bookshelf and discovered that it was from two years ago. Flipping through the pages I encountered a frightened and overwhelmed young woman; sensing a wave of change swiftly approaching her while she held on with tight fists to the way things were. Little does she know that the wave would come, it would crash over her, sweep her up and deliver her into a whole new life.
Why is it, that we humans can find ourselves miserable in our current existence, with tangible things we can do to make things more sustainable, and yet we resist it? Is it fear of admitting we are wrong? Is it fear of the unknown? Perhaps it is easier to cling to the meh/bad that we know rather than take the risk on something new/
Whatever the reason, it is a habit that I have picked up. Clenching my fists around a way of life, a routine, a practice, and declaring that this is how it is and will always be. I have always been good at convincing myself to stay in the box I have labeled as “safe.” Flipping through that journal I can distinctly remember where I was when I wrote those words, I can feel the embodiment of that anxiety and fear, I can sense what lay under that frantic energy—grief.
Yet, when the change came—I was prepared and it felt like peace. I spent a, entire year dreading the change, living in fear of it, resisting it, and clenching my fists around the little life I had created and then the wave hit. The ground beneath my feet shifted, I was lifted up, at the mercy of a force bigger than myself, the only thing I could do was open my hands and give in (always easier said than done), and let the wave of change take me where I needed to be.
Though the force was strong and jarring, it eventually ripped through my defenses and invited me to go with the flow. By the time my feet hit the ground again, I was able to receive the change with peace and a heck of a lot of hope, just as I suspect God had been trying to reassure me I would be.
My favorite nightly yogi tea always have a little message on the tea bag and a constant one is, “the only constant is change.” The only thing we can safely bank on is that things shift, they change, they transform—and that means us too. Maybe instead of meeting change with resistance, as I always tend to do, I could try opening my hands, heart, and mind to her beauty and honor her Divine origins.
It seems small, a change in a morning routine, a cafe I have been to before—but not at this time and in this circumstance—and suddenly that practice of writing I have resisted for years, has met me gently with her own flow.
Change is never easy. I believe what makes it so difficult is the grief that often accompanies the presence of change. We want to resist that feeling of sadness, but if we greet them both with open hearts and minds we might just find that peace accompanies them, we can trust that our feet will find new ground again, and in hindsight we will look back and realize we were never alone on the journey.
Grace and Peace, Margaret
