some things never change
photo by Rodion Kutsaev from Unsplash
“I realized. If you were built for optimism, you just had to figure out a way to stay that way. We couldn’t keep not caring, even if we wanted to; we just weren’t made for it. I felt an unexpected throb of empathy for pessimism. You can’t help it, either.” Jayson Greene.
Some things never change like the feel of your hand in mine, some things stay the same like how we get along just fine. I like to sing this song from Frozen II as much as possible and to the deep dismay and detriment to my family. But the lyrics are particularly timely in the midst of mask shortages and lethal viruses. Driving my son to school yesterday morning, the woman reporting on NPR sounded ecstatic as she discussed “the possibility of asymptomatic children spreading the disease to Grandma”.
With the intention of sharing calm during chaos, in my women’s groups this past week, we practiced a visualization created by the meditation teacher and author, Tara Brach. The practice from her book, Radical Acceptance, is about reflecting back on images from our past and then envisioning looking in the mirror and asking, “What about me is unchanging?” Through all the various incarnations, changes, and challenges, what has always been and remains true today? I am in love with this question and the comfort it brings. Just like my tattered blankie from childhood that I sleep with every night. But there is something within us that has been the same our entire life, a pulse, a passion, what makes us tick, our essence, and I believe it existed before we were born and will last long after we go.
When I think about this, about the things that never change, it brings me solace to know that no matter what happens, there are always the constants to comfort us. After my dad died suddenly when I was in a new high school in a new town, the comfort that consistency brought me was everything. Sitting on my couch with my friend, Erica, and my mom, eating peach gummies, watching movies while snow fell outside was cozy and seemed to whisper with each falling flake, “Lindsay, life will go on, there is still warmth and love surrounding you.” It was strange to be grieving such a momentous loss and in the midst of it, find myself laughing.
Last week, I wrote about the constant of the sun. There is also the beach and the ocean breathing in and out. There is: The Devil Wears Prada, the taste of chocolate, writing in my journal with a new pen, smiles and hugs from people I love, music, art and dancing, flowers, stars, the moon. There are external and internal elements that don’t change and we can recall them and bring then forth as a resource to ground, center, calm and clear us during uncertainty and fear.
As I finished a most wonderful book called, Once More we Saw Stars, by Jason Greene, about surviving the loss of his two-year-old daughter, a perplexed friend wondered if it made me feel more anxious. The book, written with such sensitivity and grace, is a masterpiece and actually gave me peace and hope. While my heart breaks for him and his family’s, his ability to feel and write about the joy he would someday feel again, is everything. We are resilient, crazy and courageous creatures subject to great changes. And although we die, there is something about us that is eternal. Unchanging. And this great mystery is here to remind us to keep putting one one foot in front of the other while holding hope and gratitude in our hands. “There will be more light upon this earth for me.” - Jayson Greene. And for you too.