Transitoriness

Today we speak of the inevitability of change. I will be the first to admit that I simply loathe change for change's sake. And the older I get, the more I long for some sort of stability. Some promise that things will be as they were. To be honest, though, the older I get, the more I realize that this is probably just a form of fear and laziness in equal parts.

I was sitting on the deck this afternoon after work, knitting my little heart out (there's a baby on the way and I adore the mother, so I have to do something personal), and listening to The Milk Carton Kids. If you are a fan of early Simon and Garfunkel you must look these kids up. They are a wonderful duo who play and sing and startle me with their percipience. I suspect I know a lot more than is ever

swimming close to the surface of thought, but these kids actually put this stuff into prose and sing it. Because it was, initially, background noise to what I was doing (mindmush after court) I didn't realize how closely I was listening until one of the lyrics smacked me upside the head (as they say in The South) like a mallet. It was something to the effect that you must let it go before you can see where it is going to go. How do the young know these things so long before someone as ancient and craggy as I figure it out? Are they that much more sensitive? Are they that much smarter? Do they read that much more? Or have I just been so fearful that "letting go" (whatever that means) is simply too frightening to contemplate?

I have a lovely framed document in my bathroom (that temple of serenity where I find the strength to face the day) which says, essentially, that I must take the leap. I see this every morning as I sluice off the dross of the previous day and consider the immediate future. I wonder, though, if I really see this as an affirmation of my choice for change? My former cousin and now girlfriend-forever, Carol, regularly posts bits from a website called The Tiny Buddha, which usually make a good deal of sense. They usually say something to the effect that change is inevitable and it behooves us to allow the river to continue to flow. If this is a fact of life, why is it so very hard to accept?

This is a concern of the moment because I was in attendance at a function last night as a judge (of sorts) and suddenly realized that another judge, a woman who I considered a good friend for many years, is now no more than an acquaintance. Nothing momentous happened. Nothing irrevocable was said or done. It was simply borne in upon me that our friendship had simply run its course and we no longer had anything in common. We had nothing to talk about that would hold either's attention for more than 27 seconds. It was with great sadness that I took a deep breath and ... let it go. I shall always treasure the time as friends. I shall always be grateful to her for being a friend when a friend was needed. I hope I was the same for her. But, alas, it is done.

And, so, we move forward because anything else is impossible. Change will take us, whether we invite it in or not. Best to be philosophical about it and see what it wants. Eh?

You can have fantasies about having control over the world, but I know I barely have control over my kitchen sink. That is the grace I'm given. Because when one can control things, one is limited to one's own vision. 

(Kiki Smith; artist)