Change come fast…
And change come slow…
But everything changes...you’ve got to go.
~ From the musical “Caroline or Change”
Living things deal with change according to their nature and the circumstances of their environment. Change can be experienced harshly, even for those blessed with the most resilient natures. Unexpected change—loss, illness, natural catastrophes—can hit us especially hard and cause us to question the most basic elements of our existence: purpose, passion, faith.
In an ironic twist, Nature became one of the most basic resources I turned to as a child in the face of implacable and inexplicable change. I say ironic because Nature is change. Nothing in Nature remains the same from one day to the next.
In Nature we see lives that are much briefer than ours and those that extend an almost unimaginable length of time. In my neighborhood are the remnants of gnarled, 400 year old Valley Oaks that were not removed when the subdivision was built. These enormous trees stand not as sentinels but as ghostly reminders of an oak savannah that was the homeland of the Chumash and Gabrielino Indians, long before the Spanish settlers claimed their land. And in the alkaline soil of the White Mountains of Inyo County live the oldest beings we know of on this planet: the Bristlecone Pines. The Methuselah tree has lived more than 4800 years in the limestone soil of the White Mountains. When you walk among these eldest and look out at the Southern Sierras and Mt. Whitney in the distance, you feel rooted in the flow of history, a part of something much larger and sacred then an individual life.
The immediacy of change and the fear or grief that often accompanies it can bind us to an unending present moment of suffering that neglects this larger perspective and the constant renewal that is a part of our natural world. Life finds a way to continue, to survive, to thrive. The chaparral of Southern California is a fire ecology, embracing the white hot heat of annual brush fires in order to propagate a variety of native plants. If you live near a burn area then you know the wonder of seeing the chaparral come back to life in the year following a fire. The rebirth is a miniature repetition of evolution. First to return are the simplest plants and grasses, followed by those of ever more complexity. Nature can remind us of who we are and the dignity of a finite life. It reflects to us the courage and hope of persistence, even in the face of unexpected change.
I go to the hills when my heart is grieving…..I know I will see, hear, smell and touch what I’ve seen before. It is reassuring that these treasured features of the landscape are still watching over the land and its inhabitants. But I also know that every time I go, I will see something new. Something magical or scary; charming or awe-inspiring. Some sight that will pierce me with beauty so potent that I am transported from the daily drama of my life. Something that reminds me how spectacular it is to be alive and how fortunate I am to be able to see, think, walk and yes…upon occasion twirl on a mountain top or sing out loud.
Change come fast and change come slow, but everything changes.
In this season of reflection and renewal as well as celebration and thankfulness, I wish for you the most potent and powerful connection to those sources of inspiration that have sustained you through the course of your life...a life marked by change.
