Change

Atlanta. I've written about how much I love her, and it's true. I recently went back and was able to hit my old spots. They are still beautiful and I still admire them. Things were different than expected though. As I was falling asleep about three nights ago, back in Edenton, I was looping the experience through my mind and had come up with some words that settled my uncertainty regarding this last trip back. I have since forgotten them, of course. But, they worked for the time and tucked my mind in for the night.
It's change, folks. Pure and simple change. And as I realize this I see signs everywhere pointing to it in big bold ways. Is it coincidence that Counting Crows is singing about it from the speakers behind me now? I watched Modern Family (love it!!) and the theme continued, it was about letting go and letting change take it's course. I went jogging through Edenton and one bright, yellow leaf fell in slow motion, zigzagging its way down the sky with each slight shift of wind, but remaining in my path so that we coincided perfectly and Selma jumped at it, unusually, because she observed it was peculiar too. As I passed the lone leaf and looked ahead, it was as if all of this rushed through my head at once and my tension fell as well, taking its place on the pavement beside the first fall leaf, and I ran on toward... whatever life sends. Immediately, I could breathe freer and my shackled shuffles became strides of curiosity. These weren't subtle signs I was getting from above, it was not hard to take notice of them.
That I needed to let go, was the message. I needed to practice my own motto for the way I wish to live life. Ride the river, not row. Go with the ocean's current, because as soon as your feet slip from the sand below you have a choice. Fight, use an enormous amount of energy against a power you can not come close to controlling, let tension and fright and pain consume your body, lose your breath and drown in the rush- a horrible struggle for nothing. The wave crashes no matter what you want and the only thing you control is if it crashes on you. Or, relax and retain, let loose of your limbs and float a bit in this mad rush of nature and life, hope, make yourself one with the motion and glide as this wave takes you on the ride of your life and sweeps you, most often gently, onto a shore you find rather appealing and safe.
The latter metaphor I have tapped into frequently as I am a fan of the ocean, but not a fan of tackling it. I have unfortunately been manhandled by these waves a couple of times. Neither turned out pretty. The first was a shock. I thought "I'm dead. And this is the dumbest way I could imagine." I could touch the ocean floor, but I couldn't stand. I was in shallow water, but kept getting knocked down by those fierce Atlantic waves and water was up my nose, shooting into my eyeballs (which stung like hell) and every gasp I could manage was salty, if you get the picture. I finally got tossed down the beach and was washed ashore under a fisherman that peered over me with all curiosity and no help. My eighth grade boyfriend had to come fish me out of the ocean and clean me up. I was exhausted and shaken and my face felt like bees had swarmed and stung every inch of it. Case number two was stupid too, but not nearly as scary and tragic. I was with one of my best friends in the Gulf and realized I had my earrings in still and that I would surely lose them. She suggested I put them under my tongue. I thought that was an okay plan. (All of these words reek of alcohol, mind you) As I did this a big, fat wave came from nowhere and knocked me silly and there I go, with that wave wherever it decided. I slid in to knee deep water and stood up, thankful to have one of my earrings still (the other is buried treasure), and wouldn't you know I have on a bandeau top, completely strapless. I stood up, yanked my top up, waved to my friend that I'm alive and well, and as I looked up I saw that the beach in front of me was lined with a group of beach-going spring break lads. I am not an exhibitionist. This was not thrilling for me, but for the same reason I ran into the ocean like a chanting, howling idiot with my wonderful girlfriend, I was able to muster the dignity to turn and laugh and haul ass down the shore... vodka & pineapple juice. Otherwise, I may have slowly sunk and asked the wave if it wanted another passenger for a while.
So, this example of a wave and how it can crush you in a fight, it doesn't come purely from imagination.
Taking a serious stance on the topic, I think resisting change can cause an enormous amount of stress. While going back to a past home can be fun, it can also strike one as hollow and impossible. Seeking the same city is gratifying, seeking the same dynamic within it is not. Swallow it, mourn it, and let it go. I have, with the help of my friend and husband, let my limbs fall slack and the granules under my toes are ever changing, rolling with me, taking me somewhere instead of charging into me and building up against my legs like a wall of pressure that is surely going to hurt more and more with time. Floating now, slowly and gently over new places, I almost rest.
It's a picture in my head. It's not the picture that let me rest my head a few nights ago, but this one is a stored image, a resource to use when needed.
So, I will try and see these signs, follow their direction, and ride my life. I think I had such a tight grip on the things I loved about where I was, that letting go was so threatening it physically hurt. I only now, after a week, can turn my neck and look over my shoulders. Everyday it cracks with a deep thud and I can move it more. Is it worth this sort of stiff, rigid life? My mental attitude had become mirrored in my physical state of being and I was left looking only straight ahead. Not the vision I hope for... I want to do better for myself and see more, move more flexibly.
I think I wrote a poem a while back that reflects this intent during my life. It is a reminder. I'll look for it and will put it up if I find it and it is relevant after all.
I am glad to be back here, writing and embracing my little rituals that bring me big smiles. Life is treating me kindly with gifts of variety. The kind of gifts that change. The kind of changes that make up life. The kind of life I consider a gift.