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Saturday, December 1, 2012

Spare Change.

The last time I visited Hay Creek- my dearly beloved stream, my Nirvana, my Valhalla; close connection between some of  my first memories, family members, and life lessons; a hidden gem that I've called mine for years and many more to come- I arrived to unimaginable change.

Though the dead end trail was still overrun by the natural process, something about it seemed even more formidable, I knew something was array- there was a feeling in my gut that somewhat halted me from proceeding down the old stage coach road. In my mind, I accepted that the land could change. That trees would fall and weeds would reign. But even I, who first told the River Story and who has immense passion for the power of water on land and mind, neglected the power of it's forces on the little stream of mine. This past spring was a wild one in my sweet homeland of Minnesota. As much of the world was dying of thirst, we had more than our fair share! The same forces that created the place I loved over time I thought was something that was a legend of old. The twisted and mangled concrete bridge, the railroad trusses, all old ruins that hearkened a distant and turbulent past. But as all things, things of which we have no control, the past became renewed. That spring, massive floods- I dare not say "destroyed"- but totally altered the headwaters of the stream. Limestone boulders, still crisp and yellow, were strewn across the entire stream bed, pools totally purged, riffles moved, runs widened or filled in. Upon seeing my little stream, a pristine ribbon of blue amongst gold and green, it seemed now oddly foreign to me...

But just thinking of it now, I feel ashamed in myself. Ashamed because when I looked into the turquoise pools, I saw no fish. Ashamed because I swore a lot and was angry at what had happened. Ashamed because I lost hope and feeling for my stream. I left within an hour of starting, disappointed and disheartened at the sight. I'm ashamed now because I broke my own rule: I turned my back on a lifelong friend. Change is a natural process, as is trees falling, floods coming, and rivers constantly shifting. I forgot that change can happen even to me.

If I could go back to that day- and be my own shadow- I'd slap myself and say, "What are you thinking? This is normal! This is just a little bit change!" It's simply a matter of time before the "new normal" settles in.

It begs the question, how come change is such an easy thing to think about, yet when it happens- we all think the world is going to end? I know we've all dreamed of new homes, new jobs, new relations, but that sort of change is trivial, and frankly usually never happens. Change that shakes us to our core is when we seem happy, content, and familiar. When grandma suddenly dies, we lose our job, or we maybe even want to switch our majors, and take things for granted. There is nothing so terrifying when someone loses their i-phone! But what about people from slums getting a good degree and getting high paying jobs? Positive change? To me- that's another beast named, initiative. Similar effects but of another kind. Change is a frightening word to people. Unknown means leading to unknown ends. Total loss of control.
Though it is usually for the better in the end, like getting dumped then finding a new, more perfect lover, it all comes down to time. When it hits, when you react, when you crumble, when you rebuild. All factors between life and death- figuratively.

 Notice the underlined phrase, "...take things for granted." Why is it when everything is hunky-dowry, feces always seem to hit the fan? My grandmother was progressively losing her mind. It was a real and hard fact, a fact that truly scared me and turned me away from her in the final years. I accepted and took for granted the fact that my grandmother was getting old and had forgotten my name and I would stop in from time to time to say hi and give her a kiss. From out of nowhere change happened, she got hurt and finally entered the Kingdom of Heaven. That event shook my family. Reflecting, without remorse or anger, perhaps I should have done more with her. But that change brought about many positives as well, one thing was to bring the family from across the world back together to a small waiting lobby in the hospital, there to help and support each other. Something Grandma had always wished for.

It hurts us to be humble if you dig down deep enough. To accept loss of control is the hardest pill to swallow. To admit to laziness, lack of gratitude, false pride- there is no thing so unimaginably hurtful to do. But through change, we are forced to- forced to stop and look face-first into our own lives. That is what we are afraid of. We are creatures of comfort in an ever changing world.   

I don't think change will ever be an easy thing to "do." But we can learn to how to live better, to understand all things as a Gift. To say, "Thank you" to God, friends, family, strangers, places or objects, or even just yourself. To smile during good and bad times, to look for hidden meanings and ways to grow. Change is terrifying but the result of it shouldn't be.

For all those friends and families that I've neglected to check in with- please I know that I haven't forgotten you, you're in my prayers, and I'll get around to it soon! Everyone please have a happy and safe holiday season, be unceasingly grateful, and try to reflect on ways to grow.

As for my stream, I know it will only be a matter of time- as Rivers embody Change. 

   

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