Mmm, interesting, this one… yes, the French and the Latin have had a go but it is probably derived from Celtic and it seemed to be back then “all about the money, all about the dum-dum-dum-de-de-dum”. Sorry, could not resist the song 🙂
Change also makes our lives interesting, and that’s probably the understatement of the year! For a species so loudly proclaimed as adverse to change, we seem to inflict a heck of a lot of it on ourselves! Note – we are also adaptable as a species, but that in no way cancels out the above – apples and oranges, you know?
I was thinking about changes lately, both from the challenge and the loss perspectives.
A change is a challenge mostly when you initiate it yourself, or when the result of the change leaves you… still you. So, ironically, a change is a challenge when you remain unchanged. You may change your country, your job, your house. As long as those changes are of your own accord, or irrelevant to your person (open plan office? Hot-desking? Technology updates? ) you grumble, mumble, rumble and get on with it.
A change is a loss when it is done to you, without your accord or with a result that leaves you diferent. Our individuality does not take this kindly, if at all. Death, separation, illness, natural or man-made disaster…. the list goes on. You may, in time, accept these changes, but you are not the same person as you were before the change, and we mourn this probably more than the actual change.
Change as loss is insidious and cunning, pervasive and disabling, annoying and startling. It is a digging and quarrying of the soul until nothing clean or whole exists and every bit of you is disjointedly propping up crumbling walls of the self, with the result of us limping fearfully through the same life we may have embraced before.
We may associate this type of change with loss of youth or innocence. We cannot unsee, unfeel, undo our experiences. We can, sometimes, traumatically forget and yet that isn’t an “unchange” so we reject it. But after the bewilderment and the anger and the grief, we prove our adaptability and we take the minutes and the days and the years onto this other path that is laid out inf ront of us.
We are brave, you know? We are brave exactly when it matters, in the dead of the night, when the seconds are unwillingly counted in breaths. And from the twisting and warping of who we were then, the bonsai understands, accepts, and tries its darnedest to protect the young, straight, tall sapling growing nearby.
I can but hope…