Cambiare

Change your mind.
Change your ways.
Change your outlook.
Change your sheets. 
Change your filter. 
Change your socks. 

Change your partner. Your habits. Your personality. 

Umm hmm. That’s what they say. Or maybe they don’t say it. But that’s what they mean. Something you’re doing is not comfortable for them. True enough. You see it in their face, their eyes. The slight tightness in the jaw. The quick downward glance. A couple of blinks. A rise of the shoulders. A pause before speaking. 

The car mechanic is looking to sell me a new air filter. “Oh that?” I say, flicking a little nest of tan-colored hair from the still near-white folds of the filter. “That’s just a little dog hair. Let’s just brush it off. No need to change it yet.” 

The article on the “best buy in bed sheets in 2023” arrives in my Inbox just in time. I’m ready for a complete change. Brand new color, brand new sheets, brand new commitment to sleep as self-care.

Everyone hates change, we say. We like things predictable, safe. Or rather, what we perceive as safe. 

But is it really? 

Every year here in Colorado, we get another chance to see the beauty and maybe even the necessity of change. Everyone is talking about the gorgeous colors as the leaves are changing. Advisories tell us the times for peak viewing as well as the various routes for taking in the vibrant yellow and sometimes red on the slopes of our beloved mountains. On a clear blue-sky day, the vividness of the colors against the crowning white of the early snows evokes a sharp inhale of breath. 

“Look!” we say to one another. “Oh my. Aren’t we lucky to see this?!”

And then we witness the next step in the cycle. The mat of fallen leaves, the bare branches, the deepening chill in the evening air. We burrow into our fleece. We change out our cotton socks for wool, our sandals for sturdy boots. We flick on the gas-fed fireplace and stock up on chili-makings.

We make all these transitions with more or less grace, depending on our particular likes and dislikes. Some enjoy snow skiing, others prefer summer hiking. Personally, I’m more comfortable adding layers than coping with the stifling heat. 

I enjoy a long summer day, of course, mostly because I enjoy the light. But I appreciate the long, cold winter nights.. Apparently, most seeds prefer darkness to thrive well and are actually inhibited by light when germinating. I think, too, of winter as a time for the land to rest. For some animals to take a long sleep and wake up hungry and ready for a new season of life and birth. 

We love the changing colors of leaves in the fall, the breath-taking beauty of a full moon on a long winter night, the bursting forth of colors in spring, the harvest of fresh sweet corn-on-the-cob in summer. 

We don’t love it when another person implies that we “should” change in some way. Or that we are resisting a needed change. 

We want comfort. To feel safe and secure. Yes. And …

What if “safe and secure” meant embracing change as life, as cycles of growth, as seasons of being and becoming?

What if we practiced “change” so it wouldn’t shake us up so much? Sit in the back of the room instead of the front. Arrive early instead of late, or vice versa. Take a walk in the dark. Try a new vegetable, one you’ve never eaten before. Eat salad for breakfast. Read the ending of the book first. Stand in the rain on purpose for two minutes without an umbrella.