Approaching Interchange

[ornoth]

Herakleitos of Ephesus might have been a bright feller, but when he asserted that “Change alone is unchanging,” he was dead wrong.

Most Westerners are at least familiar with the idea that change is inevitable. We do go through our lives with the idea that every so often something about our world is going to change. Although we only tend to remember that fact when it smacks us up side the face.

Us Buddhistical types also take pride in our ability to anticipate and accept manifestations of Anicca (impermanence), which our list-loving patron categorized as one of the three characteristics of existence.

“All conditioned things are impermanent. Their nature is to arise and pass away. To be in harmony with this truth brings true happiness.”

However, the very language we use to remind ourselves about change masks an incredibly important point. When we say that “change is constant”, “change is unchanging”, or “change is permanent”, we obscure this basic and incredibly important fact: change is often lumpy as hell!

For the past couple years, my life has had only minor changes, most of which were easily prepared for. Let’s call that “normal change”. In contrast, 2013 has been a year where many long-lasting things I thought I could count on simply vanished. Not just one or two times, but in a comically long string of unexpected jolts.

What do I mean? Lemme walk you through a couple examples.

At work, we were abruptly informed that our 15 year-old company had been sold and the founder was outta here. In the next eight weeks, several of my coworkers departed, including half of my team.

Some time later, it was announced that the whole company was being moved to Las Vegas, and that those who chose not to relocate—including myself—would be out of work when the Boston office eventually closed. Ohai, job market!

Meanwhile, at my meditation center, two of the three founding teachers (the two who were married) are getting divorced. While that doesn’t impact me directly, at the same time the woman who had been the center’s executive director for 15 years is resigning, as is the guy who for many years has run the office and website.

The private “spiritual friends” meditation group I’ve been a part of is undergoing similar trauma. Three of our eleven members recently left the group to move across country, including our two primary founding leaders, who also provided our meeting space. A fourth member moved, but only across town and thankfully will be staying with us. And getting married.

Meanwhile, another member of the group has been unable to attend our meetings after having her first child, and I fear the same will happen with two other members who are also expectant parents.

So now we’re struggling with who will lead the group, where we meet, what constitutes a minimum acceptable level of attendance, and how we decide on and integrate a potentially significant number of new members.

Beyond my own circle, Boston’s been having its own upheavals. The local alternative newspaper, the Phoenix, abruptly stopped publication after a 40-year run. My neighborhood pizza joint—Newbury Pizza—closed after 34 years (plus a brief but ill-conceived stint as “Bostone Pizza”). JP Licks closed their 20 year-old Newbury Street ice cream shop. And the iconic Crossroads Irish pub has been shuttered, too, after lasting 35 years. All these places were the sites of important memories for me.

Then just this week, the organization that runs Boston’s First Night—the nation’s original First Night, founded in 1975—threw in the towel, as well.

And, of course, the topper for my city was the shocking bombing of the Boston Marathon.

These major changes don’t seem to be limited to the Commonwealth, either. Two good friends recently lost their jobs, including my big “angel sponsor” for my annual Pan-Mass Challenge charity ride. And one of my favorite places in Pittsburgh—Klavon’s, an original 1920s ice cream parlor—also closed.

The final straw was when I came home and received notice that the cat-sitting service that I regularly use has closed after seven years in business. Even my cat-sitters!

So yeah. 2013 is the year of excessive change. For me, it’s been more like carnage than change, actually. It’s like what Berenger must have felt like after seeing everyone else turn into rhinoceroses in Eugene Ionesco’s play.

All this, and we’re not even halfway through the year yet!

So don’t ever let them tell you that change is constant; it sure isn’t! Change is lumpy as hell. Expect the lumps!

PS! I completely forgot to mention the failure and/or replacement of my water heater, faucet, and disposall. Big lumps of impermanence, people!