While Americans are still reeling from the effects of intense heatwaves, storms and fires, we here in Denmark are dealing with nights reminiscent of autumn, and cool days filled with clouds, rain, and sun. So much for the weather forecast. It is significant to me personally, because my moods have been mimicking the fickleness of the skies, swinging from low to high and every nuance in between during these past days. I find myself feeling restless, bored with nearly everything, my head full of random, unrelated thoughts, although, like the cloudy weather, there is a kind of pattern to them. It’s an emotional summer, to put it mildly.
Remember the old song by David Bowie, Changes?
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They’re quite aware of what they’re going through
(Turn and face the strain)
Don’t tell them to grow up and out of it
(Turn and face the strain)
Time may change me
But you can’t trace time
So much for pop poetry. Still, occasionally one can find wisdom even in the banal. I am amazed at how quickly life can change. We often “hurry up and wait,” feeling like nothing at all is happening, and then suddenly: Poof! The magic wand is cast about us, the spell is broken, and we wake from our enchantment. We walk around in a kind of daydream without even realizing it, until suddenly something or someone wakes us. Then, for a little while, things become clear. Life suddenly makes sense. We worry and fret and fritter the time away, waiting for…. what? More pop lyrics: We keep waiting, waiting on the world to change. (John Mayer) When in reality, it is we who change. We have to, we either change or stagnate. We have all seen a pool or section of stream that does not have fresh water flowing into it: green slime forms on top, all sorts of things began to grow, it is not healthy for the fish or animals, the birds avoid it. Stagnation is death, everyone knows that. So why is it that we are afraid of change, avoid it, do not greet it with open arms? Some of us do, yes. But I’d say there are more of us who resist it, drag our feet, don’t want to go there, just wish that we and everything around us could simply stay as it always seemed to be, or like it was in the ‘good old days.’ Our memories have rose-colored glasses, they color the past as something golden and beautiful, and the more unpleasant things are forgotten or stuffed away.
I read a post by Cynthia Gregory today, of Persephone’s Step-sisters. She told that she has gotten a fabulous new job in another city somewhere, and accepted it. Now she has to say goodbye to all which she has enjoyed in her current life, home and friends. Even though she is one of the people who love and embrace change, she still lamented how difficult it is to say goodbye to what one loves and is used to. Then she wrote about how useful an activity it is to clean out one’s closets. This act is like breathing fresh air into one’s soul, sweeping out the cobwebs of the mind, opening the windows to the new. I understand her perspective, and am doing something similar in my own life. Moving boxes have appeared in the apartment, and one by one, surfaces are being cleared, packed or thrown in the bin. I am slowly, not without melancholy, packing up my personal possessions and essentially, life, from the past two years here in Silkeborg, and preparing to change, yet one more time.
I tell myself and my husband that all will be fine, we will enjoy our new flat over in Sjaelland, in the little village which is close to his new work at a Steiner school out in the countryside. It will be a different adventure, we will make new friends, lead a fulfilling and good life there. These are my hopes and wishes; even as a part of my heart grieves at leaving the home we have known here, the few friends we made, the town which I am used to, the lovely lakes and forests which have been friends to me during these years in Jutland, in the heart of Denmark. Maybe because I am older than I used to be, or just tired of change, but I am not really excited about this move, as necessary and good as I can see that it is for us.
They say that Change is the Only Constant. Even as I have written this blog post tonight, the skies have cleared, the late evening sun is shining on the full trees in the garden, and the world has passed from day til nearly dusk. Dusk, when the fairies come, when magic is afoot, when humans can be taken into the netherworld if they are not cautious….
- Warrior bones dating to time of Christ dug up (msnbc.msn.com)