Being an orange ball of Play-dough after napping on the couch

Humans are instinctively afraid of change. We are nesters- beings that enjoy creating but detest tearing down (unless we grow to be property developers). We like to find that mold that we can pour ourselves into. We enjoy taking shape. Remove that mold, 'un-shape' us, and we literally and figuratively dissolve. What we don't all understand, and hopefully some of us learn in time, is that when the mold is removed, and we seem to crumble, something stronger forms at the core. The outer layer may seem to disintegrate but the core grows stronger. 

Change may break some of us. Personally, I like change just as much as I like brushing my teeth after falling asleep on the couch watching TV- a real mission at first but wildly liberating once it's done and you can feel the soft, shiny results. 

During the last week, I was forced to figuratively 'wake up and brush my teeth after a long, satisfying nap on the couch'. While hearing news of this change (that will directly affect my life over the next four months), my knees went weak and I felt physically sick. It wasn't a death in the family, or a break up- but the feeling that I had was very similar. I won't bore you with the details of what exactly has changed, but it will result in a break-up of sorts- one that will pull at my heart-strings and bring that heaviness to the soul that we all battle to shake off after being told that 'it's over'.   

So, while I casually throw around that heavy word 'change', [Something’s changed. Things have changed. I need a change. I feel a change coming], it's difficult not to get lost in what it will mean for me. To change is to alter- to become different. It's to adjust, to amend, to modify. A change is a revision- a chance to refine and to reshape. Some could say it's a chance to refashion or redesign. It forces me to reorganize, reorder, rework. I transform, transfigure. I will evolve. 

One of my favourite sayings, especially in tough times, is that 'The only constant thing in life is change'. Kind of an oxymoron. But, on many levels, in order to be constant, one needs to be changing. To be constant, we need to be present and alive and awake. Should we fail to be these things, we fail to be present. 'Going with the flow' is a term used by many [and among others] Capetonians. In essence, it means to be present and to be variable. It means to be liquid- something you learn living in such a vibrant, relaxed and coastal city. Colloquialisms aside, 'going with the flow' represents what many who hate change fail to do. If we aren't liquid enough to travel and reshape, then we fail to be present and, we fail to be constant. We fail to change. And, Big-spaghetti-monster-in-the-sky forbid we fail to change, we thus set ourselves up for an easy and deadeningly boring life- of which will end in an old-age home, watching 4:00pm soaps before dinner in the dining room, listening to Norma's same complaints about her teeth, her shingles and her erratic bowel movements. 

It's difficult to find my train of thought after thinking about an 85 year- old's bowl movement. To say I digress seems to be too much of an edit. Nevertheless, I'll push on to my point... (Excuse the pun. Ha. Ha. Ha. Siss)

For me, over the next few months, I'll be taking the stance of a bright orange ball of play-dough. While I do enjoy my stability and routine, new things will challenge me and build out-comes that I can only hope will better my life. While the dead-weight of losing something that has grown to be a part of my life rises in my chest, as I am sure it will do, I'll think of what change has brought to my life so far and hope that the heavy feeling subsides. 

Although my belief is that all men are islands, solely dependent on themselves, it will be easy for me to lean on the palm-trees that have rooted themselves to my beach. These people have, and with any luck will continue to influence me in many ways. Although they have been somewhat responsible for the news that made my knees weak and my stomach ill, it will be these people whom I will trust to influence my decisions and support me in the remodeling, and at the risk of sounding like an extremely mature wheel of brie, the evolution of my career. 

As a self-proclaimed weekend sloth, I wholly understand how comforting and warm that nap may be on the soft and enveloping cushions of your couch. The constant drawl of the TV is something that helps you to drift away peacefully into restful sleep. While this nap is as yellow and warm as Sunday afternoon sunshine, my advice would be as follows: 

Wake up. Get up. Feel the pain as you detach yourself from that couch. Experience the pins-and-needles in your leg, and the rush of blood to your head. Embrace change, redefine your life. Go with the flow. Especially, be malleable. Without change we are stagnant pools of old crap. Without change we are fat morons sleeping on the couch. Don't live in dreamland. Be present. 

Love and Gratitude (especially for all the palm-trees in my life) 

xx