Finding stillness in constant change

Another move and some cherry blossoms

The start of spring has officially arrived in the northern hemisphere. Last spring, Jonathan and I moved across the country. And this spring, Jonathan and I moved across the river.

This move in particular felt destined, although it required much thought and reflection before we took action. It fulfills our need to be close to nature and to feel more openness. We moved from Columbia Heights in DC (very much so the middle of the city) to Great Falls, Virginia (very much so not the middle of the city). Great Falls is a suburb about 20ish miles from DC, but to me, it feels more like the country. The homes aren’t so close together, only some streets have sidewalks, and most fences are the wood fences you tend to see surrounding farmland. Our lease in DC was up and we knew we wanted to live somewhere quieter and surrounded by trees. Living in the suburbs is a total experiment — we are renting, so it feels low risk.

I’m loving my walks, underneath the trees and beside the horses who live at the neighboring equestrian center. But I miss being able to walk to a “hip” coffee shop serving coffee from locally roasted beans and pastries arriving fresh each morning from the neighborhood bakery. Although we are less than one mile away from the “village,” the diversity of options is limited and there is little bustle. We are also farther from our friends — a 30 minute drive and fewer places to meet in between. As I noted, this is an experiment. I am gathering information as I know this is not permanent.

The challenge though, for both of us, is that we crave this permanence. We are still in a form a limbo, knowing that we will eventually move again, to another house, perhaps another city. Moving is destabilizing. As humans, housing is one of our basic needs and even when you are fortunate enough to have a roof over your head, changing the roof feels scary. It challenges us to find home wherever we are. For me, so long as certain people (and a dog) are present.

As we settle into our new home, which I love, I notice myself still visiting Zillow, still contemplating what it would look like to live closer to our family (and I don’t mean to spread false hope by saying this), still thinking about the next move. When I know that I need to just be. Be still for a while, in the present. It feels so unnatural for me to not daydream, to not consider future options in an effort to find permanence. Even though I know that permanence is a fallacy. Nothing is, or ever will be, permanent. Change is the constant.

Of course, in typical Universal fashion, the reminder that change is constant comes at a time of seasonal rebirth. Spring. Competing for the #1 spot of best season. Each day, I walk through our backyard and notice how the buds on the trees have grown. Some trees still entirely bare skeletons, while others sprouting tiny green leaves. None ever wondering about the future or contemplating their next move, but rather, just being with the change. Accepting that change will come without force.

So how can I be more like these budding trees? [I’m sure nobody is surprised to hear me ask how I can be more like a tree.] How can I accept that change is constant, while also fulfilling my natural curiosity and planning instincts about the future? I intuitively know that, despite my temptations, I need to focus on being for the rest of this year as we embark on the biggest change of our lives yet. To prepare, we can create constance in our immediate world.

This means taking things day-by-day and refraining from making any major life decisions that have not already been made. I can ground myself in my routines. I can develop my creative practice. I can create daily goals, find comfort in my to-do lists, and nourish myself with structure because that feels nourishing to me. I can do all of these things while noticing how my surrounding environment changes with the season. As the buds on the trees sprout into full leaves, I know I am not immune to this ever-present change. It will come without force.

As our move to Great Falls is an experiment, so can be the rest of my life. I can let myself be in an information gathering period without succumbing to the temptation of decision.

And in the meantime, I can allow the cherry blossoms to bring me to tears.

Reflection Questions:

• How do you accept change as a constant while staying present?

• When do you feel settled? How can you feel settled even when you know something will shift?

• What is budding in your life right now?