Change.

So simple. Everywhere. All the time. Obvious. Inevitable.

Yet, it is troubles. Uncomfortable. Unease. Why? Good? Bad? In-between?

Whenever anyone tells me, ‘S/He’s changed so much.’, ‘S/he’s not the same’. I wonder. Isn’t it obvious? Isn’t it the rule? To change? Isn’t change another name for growth?

Every second, I grow, I see new things, I experience, I observe, I react. Hence, I change.

The degree theory; I think maybe like most things even in change is it not just the end product but the ‘how’ and ‘how much’ of change that matters. Fundamentally, I still like to believe that we remain the same. Yeah, we have life changing experiences, people, cultures and places happen to us but at the core I think there are certain things that don’t change.

But then, where does this view leave people who bank on change to be their saviour? Isn’t change the hope for many? To turn over a new leaf?

When I come back home and see my bed in the same place, the Buddha statue sitting on the top shelf, smiling serenely, that picture at the beach on my table, I feel an odd sense of comfort and ease. When something is moved, I dislike it. It makes me uncomfortable, queasy. But sometimes I like that new feeling, the new painting, new sheets.

Pffft.

A friend and I used to very steadfastly maintain that changes and constants aren’t opposites but intertwined.

‘Change, my dear friend,’ he said, ‘is the only constant.’

To that I say, ‘Meh.’