Making
Room
“In
our lives, change is unavoidable, loss is unavoidable. In the
adaptability and ease with which we experience change lie our
happiness and freedom.”
The
Buddha
It
rained in Birmingham yesterday. And behind the rain, we were told to
expect our first frost. I always procrastinate until the last minute
to get the house plants in from the porch, to prune and re-pot in
preparation for winter. When I inspected my plants, I realized how
much bigger they were than when I put them outside in the spring.
Even with pruning, they would require more space than before. So I
set about moving the furniture to make room.
Now
and then, I get a wild hair about rearranging the furniture anyway. I
tire of the same old sight of it, and since I can't afford new, I
just mix things up. My dogs always go into a tizzy. Even more than
humans, they hate change. Julie danced under my feet, dodging
and weaving, until I had to put her in the basement. Liza was like a
mini-linebacker attempting to block every move. So she went down,
too. Then she stood at the foot of the steps and barked her
resentment. Sometimes I feel that there is a dog conspiracy in this
house—one, to keep me from sleeping past five, and two, to disallow
change of any kind.
I'm
not sure how we evolved to have such resistance to change. You'd
think that after what happened with the dinosaurs and saber-tooths,
we would have figured out that adaptability is the of the essence. We
think we're different, but all it takes to disabuse oneself of
such foolishness is to get on a church board or committee. Have you
ever tried to move the furniture in your church or temple? Or, God
forbid, change the direction of its charitable giving, or make a
decision to remodel, or build an annex. Turf war takes on a whole new
meaning. “This is how we've always done it,” is the rallying cry
for an armed skirmish. Trust me, I've been bruised in the raids that
follow. Christians, with knives between their teeth, are a terrifying
sight.
I'm
going to try to make it easier for my dogs today. I'll give them a
nice cookie and turn on the radio in the basement before the
furniture moving begins anew. Maybe I'll slip them both a little of
Julie's chicken-flavored Valium to ease the anxiety they feel. Too
bad I don't have some for me, too. I'm sure I'd enjoy cleaning out
the pantry a whole lot more if I did. I hope you ease into the change
of seasons, too. A fire in the fireplace and a cup of hot chocolate
works almost as well as chicken-flavored Valium, I'm pretty sure.
In
the spirit,
Jane
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