It was cool sitting on the shaded veranda.
We were surrounded by a lush garden, and my best friend and I were staring at the Bradshaw mountains of Arizona in the background.
“Change is hard,” she said to me.
How many times have I heard this? But I took a few moments to mull it over again.
“I’m not so sure it needs to be…” I gently offered back to her.
I felt that emotional resistance of someone who absolutely holds this belief to be true.
On her face I could see the “Oh, here she goes again” expression that I sometimes get.
To this, I responded, “Look. I know ‘everyone’ believes that. ‘Everyone’ thinks change is hard because they’ve been told it’s hard. They’ve been taught that it’s hard…
The wrinkle in her brow told me she wasn’t yet convinced. Over and over, life experience has shown her how hellish it has been to make changes. She has always said that she didn’t “do” change very well.
I leaned in a little closer to her and pointed to her garden.
“Do you see those plants?
“The butterfly bushes, the trees, the roses… the vegetables you have in your raised beds?”
I could hear her say mentally to herself “So?”
“They are changing.
“They are growing, thriving, … just BURSTING with life.”
I paused for dramatic effect.
With an open hand I gestured to her manicured paradise and then asked “Does this look like a hell-hole to you? Do you hear screaming, cursing, and gnashing of teeth because these plants hate change?”
Bird feeders hung from the rose trellis, and together we watched a few wild rabbits munching on the seed that had fallen. Humming birds zipped through this idyllic scene and the silent butterflies landed on her specialized plants to attract them.
“I think Life is Movement,” I almost whispered.
Warming to my topic, I went on.
“Some people call it ‘Change’ and can barely spit out the word because it takes them away from a comfortable routine and they are afraid of what might come next. But actually…
“Try not moving for a day or two. Don’t drink water, pass your bowels, blink or even leave your bed.
“I think THAT would be hard…”
A few more moments passed.
“This garden that you enjoy every day is the perfect example that movement and change are good. It’s easy, natural, and necessary. Otherwise we’d be dead!
“I think that we have been taught that change is hard. We’ve been taught to hate it. Why not call it movement instead and just go with it?”
My dear friend just sort of blinked, staring out into her amazingly full…abundant…back yard.
“Yeah, sometimes I just beg for these plants to grow. I want to see what they’ll look like when they’re a little taller or when they bloom.”
“I bet!” I agreed.
“And do you ever hear them cussing you out?”
She gave me a crooked smile.
“They’re just doing what nature does – grow, expand, bloom…drop a dead leaf… – Every. Single. Moment.
“I think that’s what Life is supposed to be like for us,” I sighed.
We soaked in the bliss of the warm breeze rustling through the leaves. The fountain bubbled water, and we watched cloud art float by.
Sipping on her iced tea, my dearest companion said, “‘Life is Movement.’
“The feeling is different when I look at it that way.
“I just hope I remember.”
Smiling softly and crunching on an ice cube I suggested (to the both of us), “We’ll have your garden here to remind us just in case.”
At that moment, the back door flew open.
“Wanna play cards?” her husband asked enthusiastically. Meanwhile, Noodles, her eight-pound rescue pup jumped up on her lap and started licking her face.
My girlfriend and I looked at each other knowingly.
“Life is movement,” she said confidently.
“Yup, it sure is,” I said as I grabbed Noodles and nuzzled into her soft fur.