A few people who know me quite well will tell you that I fear change like Voldemort fears death. That I’m scared to Hell and back that something will disrupt the delicate balance that governs the present and the future. I found this idea too ridiculous to even take into consideration in the beginning, for I love spontaneity and recklessness. Unfamiliarity thrills me. I don’t like to make planned, calculated moves when it comes to many, many things, but now when I think about it properly, I guess I am afraid of change. Scared to lose whatever makes sense in a whirl of absolute unfamiliarity.
I’m not afraid of improvement, but maybe I am scared of some emotions I can’t handle too well. I can’t tell what frightens me so much, but perhaps it is the possibility that there is such a great chance of loss or rejection, and that I can’t ever be prepared to handle it. (I hate being told that I can’t do something.) It’s very visceral, yes. But such emotions always left me feeling far too lost. However, more recently I’ve grown sort-of comfortable with the idea that nothing is static and the only thing that’s constant about life is change itself. Adaptability is probably not my strongest point, but at the end of the day, maybe it’s all that counts. Because change does that. More often than not, it gives you the chance to adapt and even though I called it a ‘whirl’ before, but maybe it’s more gentle, more gradual, more like a swivel.
The thing about change, forgive my poor metaphor, is that it is like growing your hair. It happens so slowly, and you can’t make out the difference from one day to the next. You can’t feel it. It isn’t palpable enough. And day by day, it grows longer and longer, and you fail to realise it because the change is so so minute. But then, all of a sudden, someone comments on how long it has grown and you feel the full weight of the realisation that your hair has progressed from shoulder-length to mid-back and you haven’t ever felt it happening. Similarly, change happens little by little, so slowly that you sometimes mistake it for stagnancy. But it will happen and the understanding that something is different will probably only strike you once it is too late, unless you’ve paid attention to the signs.
In many ways, it’s like evolution, which is a constituted of a series of smaller mutations. Life did not jump directly from the single-celled organism to human being. There were several stops along the way, signs that something else; something much more complex was ahead. It’s the same with degeneration as well. You will see it coming. Still, it’s funny how we sit and wait for the smaller changes to multiply, or maybe accumulate in the patterns of geometrical progression (?), before we are completely ready to open our eyes and see that it has compounded into so much more than it should have ideally been. Do we always need to sit idle till the storm strikes?
I’m not going to make sweeping generalisations and give you certainties, but there’s a great chance that change will leave breadcrumbs along the route, little signs and blinkers that it is on its way; and when it does hit, it may hit you with a pat before a blow, giving you ample time to be mentally prepared and to adapt to it. Maybe waiting for the full after-effects isn’t the wisest way of telling if something has already happened.
So, I think I do seek some amusement in how this works, because if you look at it from the ‘micro’ lens, not much has changed from yesterday to today. And not much will change from today to tomorrow, or from tomorrow to the day after. But when we look back, years from now, everything has happened.