Change

It is believed that change is normal. Change is inevitable. Stagnation is abnormal, in fact, it is serious reason to worry. Change has to happen, whether we like it or not.

I have a love-hate affair with change. I love and hate it with equal measure. I embrace and spit at it at the same time. Moving from one thing to another is something I almost fight with. I can't live with change; I can't live without it either.

The worst thing about change is that it rips away the normal. It makes me feel uncomfortable, because it's in the unknown. Everything familiar goes, and I have to make what's new and strange familiar. Many times it's painful and confusing. It's almost like groping about in the dark, hoping it will all work out right.

As I move from change to change, I realized there are two types of changes: The good change, and the bad change.

The good change makes the heart beat faster. It's the change the heart always yearns for, the change we long for. It's like oxygen, it makes life much easier. Like taking a vacation. Or meeting the person of your dreams. Or finally getting admitted to a university (or getting the much-desired job). Such changes makes us jump out of our skins in jubilation, the world feels like the best place to be.

Then there is bad change. Change that breaks your heart. Change the makes life feel like such a burden. Like during a break-up. Or when a close friend moves. Or losing your job (one that you really, really love). These changes make you want to shut yourself out of this world. Everything suddenly becomes dark and almost pointless.

All in all, as time goes by, I realize I have to make the most out of it. Because, when all is said and done, change makes me better, stronger, wiser. It, in its own ways, moves me from one glory to another; from one level to another.

Going the whole nine yards

A while ago, I taught a class of some rather spontaneous students. And one of the out-of-the-blue things they did was to ask for an exam they weren't prepared for.

The students came to class, and out of the blue, one of them decided that they wanted to do the exam. She insisted that she wanted to do the exam on that very day, never mind that she hasn't previously studied for it. The other exams were overwhelming her, and she felt like getting over and done with the class I was teaching would give her some relief. And the others jumped in and joined her. They complained of the stress of dealing with so much work, and throwing one piece of load from the bandwagon would make things so much lighter. They even were OK if they failed the paper, just as long as it was out of the way.

So, half-heartedly, I accepted. I gave them the paper, seriously half-heartedly. I knew what it is they were asking, they were pretty much jumping off the twentieth floor hoping to land alive. But I gave it to them anyway. And oh, the complaining I heard during the exam! The ooohs, and aaahs, and what-the-heck-is-this and oh-my-God were seriously overwhelming. My heart really went out to them.

As I was watching them, and feeling really hurt for them, I wondered: How many times have I done the same thing? How many times have I asked God for something, insisted and almost thrown a tantrum, only to mourn when it comes my way? How many times have I justified doing something, magnifying the positives, only to be crushed and hurt when all is said and done?

Am I really willing to go the whole nine yards? When I make a request, am I making it from a wish-upon-a-star point of view, without thinking of the consequences? Am I ready to deal with the downsides that come with the decisions I make? Am I being prudent, or just wishful?

 Am I asking for rain, then complaining about the mud?

When I was wise…

Once upon a time I was wise. Or at least I thought I was. I figured out I knew everything there is to know about everything. I was totally Ms. Know-It-All. I knew everything, from the little things like how to brush your teeth, to the big things, like how to parent. I'd read the books, watched the show, heard from the "wise ones", and pondered on everything they said. I felt totally wise. Ask me anything, and I'll reply well. I'll let my springs of wisdom flow freely as you drink deeply.

Or so I thought.

How wrong I was!

Because, as time went by, I realized that there's more to wisdom than just watching and reading. There's experience. Everything I knew and pondered on was tested - sometimes by fire. All my "wisdom" was sifted like wheat. And I realized how not-so-wise I was. I'd depended too much on others, what they said, what they thought, at the expense of reality. I came face to face with my folly. I felt the nothingness of my wisdom.

So I decided to do it different. Not that I throw away all that I've learned, but I do more than that. I'll step down from my high horse of "Dr. Wiseman" and take time to use what I've learned to better my knowledge base. I'll take time to ask myself the questions, to learn; to really, really learn; and to realize that learning never ends.