The past few weeks here in Montreal there has been a noticeable shift in the weather with the ripples of distant hurricanes, the change of leaves and the sun’s slow slide southward, Autumn has firmly stepped its foot in the door. As I watch the changes, I find myself having brief moments of panic at the exit of summer –and brief moments of delight at the prospects of fall. Sadly, I realize that my summer of academic laziness has passed and the shifting winds and colored leaves herald a new era. Change.
Personally, like most, I’m no stranger to change. I find myself begging for it most of the time, and yet, resisting it full-force when it actually shows up. Unlike the change of seasons – which comes whether we want it to or not – life changes often require more effort. In the world, fall will always follow summer and winter will always follow fall. But in our lives, we can prevent the leaves from changing for years in the autumn of our indecision – forcing them to hang onto the limbs of trees, ripe with the desire and potential of change but left in stasis; we will them to stay on those branches, no matter the cost. As a therapist and educator, I find that I am in the business of change – or at least the business of proposing change. Guiding clients toward new perspectives – leading students toward new ways of viewing the world and those they encounter. I observe its many faces. I see the mythical allure of change as well as its harsh reality. I witness the loss and mourning that comes in its wake – and the excitement and revelry that can also be its fruit.
There is a familiar point in therapy with a client where after weeks of complaining about a life situation – after months of painting the bleak and overwhelming picture of their life struggle – a solution presents itself, revealed through the therapeutic process. A magical, blessed moment, one would think. And yet, more times than not, that moment is met not with joy, relief and excitement, but rather a barrage of reasons why that solution couldn’t possibly work – why now is not the time – why we should keep searching for something else, another answer to the problem. And so the leaves stay on the trees, full of potential energy – but trapped in the status quo. It is our nature to resist and resist and resist. Even if that change could bring us an unfathomable amount of joy and happiness, we fight it with the determination of Jacob wrestling his angel. . . Or maybe that’s just me.
I recently went to a high-priced psychic (don’t judge me . . . perhaps I’ll post more about that experience later). One thing she said to me, after extolling my potential, was, “My one doubt is whether or not this man is really interested in becoming who he is.” It came as a shot to the gut. In the moment I was a bit incredulous – OF COURSE I’m ready, of course I’m interested. But, as I’ve thought about it, I realize I’m not so sure. Perhaps I like my leaves hanging on the branches, just the way they are . . .
But, as the seasons once again change, as I watch the leaves outside my window blaze in their orange, yellow and red – daring for a short period of time to be free and let their authentic colors show before swan diving to earth -- I commit to leaving my door open a crack. Surely there are ways to allow change in – ways to allow my own authentic colors to burn more brightly. I suppose it just takes some courage.
And there we are . . . or rather, there I am.
Too cheesy? (asks the lactard) Perhaps.
In any case, here’s to walking through crunching piles of leaves, to occasionally stooping to pick up a perfect specimen, and to that beautiful, terrifying, liminal space between summer and winter.
