At prep school I was the lead in a version of Kafka’s Metamorphosis, staged in an old wooden auditorium with bare-bones set pieces and big characters. The play was small in its ambition, but well received, and as a senior project for a veritably insane young man from Bermuda, it won a distinguished award for him, and accolades for us.
To promote the work opening that weekend, strange and puzzling signs sprang up around our green velvet campus.
First, “CHANGE IS COMING”.
Then, “CHANGE IS NOT GOOD.” (An ominous reference to the demons found in the characters after one awakes, either mad or actually changed. Eventually all players take part in destroying the 'changed', including 'himself'. This climaxed with the actors pummeling me with not-yet-ripened apples while I screamed at the top of my lungs in, at first, mock pain, then real. Against my suggestion and wishes, of course).
Something about the gentle slopes of two temperature fronts colliding always brings me to the question of change.
Thoughts now tend to clog the air—in my bedroom, on the subway, flowing through the streets.
Last night a phone call had me asking what could be. This morning, a chance meeting did the same.
Around the globe, how many are awaiting a thick packet, email, or affirmation of acceptance—to school, to jobs, to dreams?
How many of us told ourselves it would be today, this summer, this year, that something, anything, would finally happen, make sense, come to pass?
And how many, though change often is deeply desirous (maybe subconsciously in most cases), fear it?
Today I’m taking a vow to disregard fight or flight. To choose to face, and even pursue, the changes that could be. To echo an idea of walking into the uncertain, versus just standing and letting it wash over.
Easier said than done...