I’d rather have a pair of ducks. Just saying.
In looking through my blog archives, I have re-realized that my thoughts and writings are incredibly scattered. I want to refer to something I am sure I have written about before, but it must have been elsewhere – be it journal or email or random scrap of paper. But to save myself the time, let me sum up and leave you to take me at my word without substantiating evidence.
I hate change.
I dread it like I feared the Purple Haze at a water park some years ago. A new ride, it boasted 420 feet of darkness (at the time I may or may not have still been afraid of the dark). The line stretched beyond the stairs, down to the main path that led to other rides. We stood in line probably 30 minutes, but those thirty minutes were agonizing. So many things could go wrong – what if I got stuck? But I wasn’t going to back out. I would pick up my leaden feet and climb those stairs. I would stand at the opening and watch others slide into the night. I would myself slip into the unknown darkness. And guess what – it was fun. I wanted to go again.
This analogy shapes how I look at change in my life. It’s what keeps me from joining Hermits United and coming out for their meetings every 10 years.
I know that in the end I will love where I have ended up (and then hate the leaving again).
But while I may race through chapters in a book, eager to reach the end, when it comes to chapters of my life, I am decidedly more resistant to their closure.
Perhaps saying that I hate change is too simple.
It’s leaving and goodbyes.
So many times I am brought to a profound appreciation for the people who have been a part of my life though are no longer a constant presence. But all the same, when it comes time to step out and meet new people who will amaze me with their humor and experiences and ability to speak new wisdom into my life, the sadness of allowing my present life to fade into history is overwhelming at times.
Recently I’ve had a couple of conversations about photographs and places that were once significant.
I love taking photographs and revisiting the places that have been important to me.
It’s true: stopping to take a picture does take you out of the moment, when you return something has been lost because circumstances have changed and the sun shines differently.
But maybe those Maasai who believe photography steals your soul were on to something. Maybe taking a picture of the moment does capture something of the experience. And maybe that’s one of the reasons I am drawn to photography and transcribing my life through blogs and journals; I am willing to sacrifice a piece of the moment if it means I can save it.
I have previously expressed my wish that I could live all of my life concurrently – so that I would have everyone and everywhere that is important to me present always, so that goodbyes would not be necessary.
I am unable to judge whether this is healthy, or if I need to work at letting go.
Regardless, today I am sad to see with such clarity the end of this segment of my life.
This too shall pass. Tomorrow or the next day I will overflow with all of the things I am looking forward to about my upcoming adventure – because they are many.
But this is the paradox: that so often within great happiness is also sorrow. Hello sometimes means there is a necessary goodbye.
So there are two choices that I can see. We can live without abandon and make the most of every moment and experience and relationship. Or we can live in fear, hide away and keep ourselves safe.
I so desperately want to be the former, but it is a daily struggle.
Okay, deep breaths. Wherever I am is where I want to be – let this be so. And I will carry you with me, for you have shared so much with me.
So come on guys. What are you waiting for? We are going to Panama!