To realize that EVERYTHING is in a state of transformation raises questions, at least for me, on why we as humans hold this fantasy of finally arriving. That word and idea carries a connotation that we want to be done. Asleep perhaps forever in a bubble bath in our McMansion. Maybe intellectually we don’t agree but in the way we often react to never really getting there, it’s clear we meet our journey with much trepidation and energy trying to desensitize ourselves from the growing pains.
We see the change of seasons and the cycle of all of life. Even the sidewalk is constantly shifting. Eventually it buckles and cracks. The canyons and mountains shift with every blow of the wind. When nothing moves there is atrophy. We know that ultimately things must die to give way to new life. I realize this includes chapters and subchapters in my life.
And these stories are good. If I let them be. Rather than shrink from them, I can flow with the rhythms of change like the trees, canyons, and mountains do; like them, my life would have height, depth, and wonder. As every life does. To appreciate that in the moment, and to enjoy the process.. that’s grace.