It seems obvious and simple, and it is:
I am embarking on a sea of change, and the prospect is daunting.
When you are in the midst of this sea---or even on its shore looking
out to its limitlessness, choppiness, & unpredictability-----it's
hard to pare down one's feelings to the obvious and simple.
Everything is overwhelming. Everything is so much. Everything
is spinning and jittery and fraught with emotion. It seems like the
end of the world. It seems like the end of time, the
end of joy and nature and birds singing. But it is only a
family move to New York City. I hear it's even been done before.
This simple, obvious truth (that the upheaval, the insecurity, the fear and sadness, as well as the thrill and hope that accompanies a new beginning all boils down to one word, Change) dawned on me the other day. And I am hoping that if I cling to this word, and what it means, and try to really understand it, I might survive the storm.
"Change" writes the choreographer Twyla Thorp, "...is the unpleasant task of dealing with that which we have been denying." (Her italics) She is writing about a creative project in this context, about the moment that an artist is forced to see that what he has poured his time and energy into is just not working. It's time to re-write, re-paint, re-choreograph, discard or whatever.
But the sentence and sentiment applies to real change to, to making a change in life. By moving out of our lovely, familiar routine, and away from our comfortable familiar community---it's forcing me to deal with what I could previously deny. On one level, that means painting the living room. (The walls are really dirty, that I was totally denying!) On a more significant level, the upheaval and transition will shake out some of those little monsters who I had managed to avoid by sticking to the confines of my life here.
"Change... is the unpleasant task of dealing with that which we have been denying."
Anyway, that's me today.