An essay on change

Poem by: Mary Oliver

Today I depart my job. I have a new 3-month -old baby. I am no stranger to change, yet this time I manage through it on my own terms. I do not resist closing this chapter- I know it has already been closed. This is part of some bigger plan. I am not talking about a higher power so much. I am talking about the same forces that manage the tides of the ocean, the rise and fall of the sun each day, and the changing of the seasons. I sit in comfort that there is some kind of eventual plan for me. It will unfold with time as all things do, like the caterpillar transforming into a butterfly. In the meantime, I will continue to work each day. I will clean the kitchen, fold the clothes, sweep the floors, prepare the meals and wipe the dirt from scraped knees. I will tuck my children into their blankets and read them stories. I will notice the blue jay sitting on my fence and how the red roses continue to open on their vines. I will dig in the dirt with my littles and look up at the tall tree as I sit on our rope swing. My comfort lies in the present moment. The sound of the birds chirping in my garden, the kids running around the playground just beyond our fence. The only certainty is in this moment, it’s too scary to look much further beyond.

I won’t take solace from what I have, only what I am. I am not my job, I am not my educational degrees. I am not what’s in my bank account, or what I own. I am not the deed on my house, I am not the highest earned title in my field. I am not the number of words I have written, or whether I have published. I am not the shoes or the clothes I wear. I am not the car I drive. I am not the vacation I can take.

I walked through the nature preserve near my home the other day. It sits on the coast. There have been countless times when I have yearned to own land or a home along the coast not realizing I already do. I can walk to the nature preserve each day. I can peer over the cliff at the sea lions in repose. I can observe the hermit crabs walking along the sand. I can pick up the sea shell washed up on the shore. I can view the seagulls flying overhead.

I don’t need to have, I can simply be.