On Change

22 Mar

Days are whirling past us all like the dust storms my city is currently a witness to. If I were working, I would be engulfed by the luminescence of my computer screen, carpeing every diem to clock another mile stone along the way, another quarter of a year’s life, getting to yet another set of goals and targets that I’d have to figure out ways to knock out of the park, as my ex manager would say. Everybody has so many ways to measure time. Even nature changes her cloaks and dresses when the time to change finally does arrive.

Speaking of which, I did post a picture on Instagram today of a pretty marvellous experience. It was this not so big, not so overpowering, far from oak-like tree, laden only with seed pods and nothing else. Except that even this tree with its bare minimum costume, had the most pronounced and engaging harmony, spell-binding enough for anyone to take notice of the chorus of its dancing seed pods, reverberating with celebrations…perhaps of change…something not many of us celebrate or even look forward to. And was it a sight, an experience, a moment to absorb and internalize.

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I’m not very flexible or welcoming of change and its many agents. I have to admit that I shirk the idea of newness much more than I desire change, whenever I do i.e. I’m one of those specimens that fears change, almost feeling its rugged edges scratching the smooth surface of comfort I’ve wrapped all around me. It’s another thing that I make change look like a chainsaw about to gnarl and rip through my plushly cushioned bubble, which it of course, needn’t always be.

However, as much as I love change, not, every single day has been different. Every single day has an unexpected visitor, a facet that I’ve never seen before. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m married or because I’m in a new place or because I’m not at a job or because the universe wants to catch a few laughs at my cost…I’m not entirely sure really. But change, there has been, and by the truckloads.

It has made me more quiet, more contemplative, more watchful, more intuitive. Sometimes it has made me rebellious, angry, vengeful, sad. Through its many arrivals and departures, it has taught me to let go in ways I never ever imagined existed. It made me realise that the concept of letting go which I’ve been talking about all along as if I was some pro, was just the tip of an iceberg…so shallow, so deceptive, yet very present and real. Change has shown me the importance and necessity of embracing it, sometimes at the overwhelming cost of yourself…to peel those carefully placed layers within yourself, so you can be open, vulnerable, more receptive to what it really has in store is a chore and something my (bruised) ego detests most often (haha!)…it is such a game most often. Most importantly, it has taught me that it will be only as hard or as easy as you make it to be. But then again, isn’t everything dependent on perception?

I never really come out here to talk about the serious stuff or to make my blog look like a boring college book nobody wants to read. But the thing is, writing has this immense capacity to be cathartic…it always has been for me…an act that provides me solace, peace and so much room to explore like nothing else has. It’s so natural, so easy sometimes…and yet so impossible and absent a lot of the other times. There are always so many questions, so many whys, whats and how comes…most of them immediately quietened with the punch of letters on a keyboard, others humbled into submission either to stop existing or to stop mattering altogether. So it’s only natural that this space becomes therapeutic while you, dear reader, engage with me and hopefully find some catharsis along with me.

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