Running To Stand Still

The only thing that’s constant is change.  I recently heard this sentiment expressed in response to someone talking about the difficulty of dealing with change. I think it was meant to be reassuring, but it might have landed wrong. Think about it–I’m going through a hard time, I’m a ball of stress, and you say I’m always going to feel like this?

I’ve been thinking about this idea lately. I don’t know if it’s because I’m going through a few changes myself or because I’ve noticed that it’s not limited to me. It seems all my friends are experiencing change in their lives, too. And wasn’t that also the case three months ago? Six months ago?

Though perhaps so frequently used it can’t help but sound trite, the statement that change is constant seems undeniably true. In both minor and significant ways, something is always changing in our lives, year to year, day to day, moment to moment. I am just getting settled into a new daily routine with my sweet old dog, and already it’s time to send her back to her dad’s house. I was just starting to get back into a steady yoga habit when my allergies went into overdrive, eliminating downward facing dog and all other inversions from my practice. Or I can consider more meaningful examples of change in career, relationship, and sense of home. How I’d just started to pursue my own friendships and interests when my now ex-husband and I uprooted to move across the country, unconsciously reinforcing our codependent ways.

I’ve logically accepted the fact that change is constant, so I feel like I should not be threatened when I’m unable to find the ground under my feet. Yet for some reason I am always in a mad rush to get to the other side. Instinctually I cling to this notion that once I get through a particular change, I will be able to plant my feet on the ground. I’ll feel stable and all will be well and life will be easier. I just need to get through this move, this schedule change, this career transition, this relationship, this period of mourning. Yet the changes keep coming–sometimes by choice but often not.

We are quick to identify change as an agent of fear, stress, or disappointment when it creates hardship in our lives, and these are legitimate feelings. But we are not being honest with ourselves if we think we can escape them by outrunning change and somehow finding a place to stand still. In my personal experience, I have found no evidence that such a place exists.

So how can we find more ease in this constant sea of change? We can start by abandoning our struggle to swim to shore, as its solidness is an illusion. Instead we can learn to float, riding the crest and trough of each wave as it passes. If we look to the horizon, there are endless waves headed in our direction. Instead of thrashing about, fighting to maintain our course, we could relax and be carried.

This doesn’t mean that we won’t get upset or sad or feel other strong emotions, but it means we keep them in perspective. We don’t create the expectation that we’ll be happy if we can just get to where we want to go. Instead, we feel whatever we are feeling and remember that it’s transient. We look around at where we are and see what we can appreciate about the place we are in. We remind each other that change is constant.