Almost every day of my adult life I’ve been hankered to change something about me. My husband says to swap attitudes if I ungraciously unload my workday grief upon him. As a teenager, my parents reminded me to behave and act maturely. My professors in college asked my classes to change study habits and pleaded us to show up. Advertisements everywhere ask me to second guess my looks. Parenting books unload their expert criticisms and advice. And the Internet tells me its stance on myriad topics. I receive daily e-mails showing me how to green my existence. Change a light bulb, change your life.
I’ve responded inch by inch. Sometimes things hit me hard in the stomach and I’ve taken quantifiable steps. Other times I’ve committed to changing and then stumbled and stumbled some more. Or later succeeded. Composting and remembering reusable grocery bags when shopping I’ll count among some of my delayed successes. Images of sea turtles muddling through my muck have helped in these cases.
But thinking about big changes in my life I can see how most have come along without big preparation or fanfare. A night of too much drinking in high school led me to look at and alter my relationship with alcohol. A class on the philosophy of religion goaded me to see creation and the Creator in a new light. A handful of books and Web sites have led me to awareness, to watching my imprint on the planet. I decided my college major on the suggestion of a hairdresser, changing my career trajectory. An article in a magazine prompted me to volunteer for a year as a mentor. A preschool job fermented my decision to have kids young.
And with each of these outside events, there are hundreds more that could have changed my views and changed my life. Yet there has to be something on the inside to spark it.
I also find that random things snag my shirt and stop me in my mindless motion and prompt action. Yesterday, while skimming a magazine, I met Hercules who, while living in a Chinese orphanage, weighed a meager six pounds at nine months. Tears welled in my eyes imagining the lifelong struggles of this beautiful, innocent soul who was born to this world just as eager and full of love as my own son but was sadly not met with doting parents or health care. The organization Love Without Boundaries provided him with necessary surgery and he was later put into loving hands through adoption. Later that day, I signed up to help in ways that I can.
And yet I certainly don’t act for every heart wrenching story I hear or do something for every 10-steps-for-a-better-life or 5-ways-to-save-the-planet guide I read. Laziness, forgetfulness, a feeling of being overwhelmed, or the notion of not having enough resources or time in one day afflict my desire to change.
But one thing that has made me more fertile ground for change is parenthood. My sweet son Cal, now 4 ½ months, has opened my heart in ways unimaginable. Not only is my love for him bottomless, but my love for the world has been magnified. I want for the environment to rebound and I pray for hope to reign so that he and his compatriots can be and live better. That won't happen while I'm sitting on the sidelines, so I've done some more on my end. It’s a simple request that pours from his blue eyes like a river every day: please leave the world better than how you found it, or at least don’t spoil it for me and my friends.
Today I found this quote inspirational: “One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice,” Mary Oliver said.
Sometimes we surprise ourselves and act differently the very next minute. We begin anew. Many more times we mean well and forget. And although we begin each day with our own varied reasons to change and to not, we often run up against our nature: that annoying fine print that reminds us we are, indeed, creatures of habit. However, that does not excuse us from the important work at hand. Change is necessary for our hope and happiness and the survival of our planet. The good news is that change begets change.
So please do not cease the hankering. We need our loved ones to remind us to act well. We need our books to plant that seed. And all those campaigns for change should not abort their efforts to get people to do so just because they operate against the odds; I, like many others, have tinkered with my behavior and intend to do so in the future. Tinkering matters, especially if everyone’s doing it.
The real challenge for me is to not beat up on myself when I've failed to make those changes I really meant to. Can you relate? Because it’s in that moment when we feel weighted and unworthy by our own inaction that some new opportunity for change, no matter how small, comes knocking and we’re too busy to answer. And we wouldn't want to miss it, especially for our kids and for Cal.
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This entry is meant to be a part of the series titled The Inconvenience of Change. During May, the blog Life Without Pants has partnered with Cool People Care to provoke the blogosphere to contemplate change, what it means, and what makes it so difficult in the hopes of prompting conversation and challenging people to stop trying and start doing. If you have a blog, please partake in this experiment and also receive a copy of the New Day Revolution, penned by Sam Davidson, the founder of Cool People Care.
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