There is a strange promise hidden in the phrase:
This is how things are.
It sounds permanent.
It rarely is.
A person changes.
A friendship changes.
A body changes.
A city changes.
Even the mountain changes, though it has the advantage of moving very slowly.
We often treat change as something that happens to us.
But we are change too.
Every day, something leaves.
Every day, something arrives.
You become someone who knows what yesterday’s version of you did not know.
Sometimes this is wonderful.
Sometimes it is grief.
You can miss a person you used to be.
You can miss a home that no longer exists.
You can miss the version of a relationship that was once possible.
Change does not ask whether you are finished with something.
It simply continues.
This can make us reach for permanence.
We want to freeze the good moment.
Keep the person exactly as they are.
Keep ourselves exactly as we were when something felt right.
But a frozen moment is no longer a living moment.
It has become a photograph.
Beautiful, perhaps.
Still.
Maybe the task is not to preserve everything.
Maybe it is to learn how to remain present while things transform.
A tree does not fail because it loses its leaves.
A river does not fail because the water moves.
A person does not fail because they become someone new.
Sometimes becoming new is the only way forward.
This does not mean every change is good.
Some things should be resisted.
Some things should be repaired.
Some things should be protected.
But even resistance is part of change.
You push against the river.
The river is still moving.
You change it.
It changes you.
Everything participates.
Perhaps this is another reason sovereignty cannot mean complete control.
You are allowed to choose your direction.
You are not allowed to stop the river.
And maybe that is not a limitation.
Maybe it is the condition that makes a life possible.
If nothing changed, nothing could grow.
Nothing could heal.
Nothing could surprise you.
Nothing could begin.
Fancy Dust is currently undergoing an extremely dramatic transformation.
It has become slightly less noticeable on the carpet.
Scientists are baffled.
We will continue monitoring the situation.
For the rest of us, perhaps the practice is simpler.
Notice what is changing.
Notice what you are holding onto.
Notice what is asking to be released.
Notice what is beginning.
You do not have to love every change.
You do not have to understand it immediately.
You only have to recognize the river.
It is moving.
So are you.
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