One lesson life continually teaches me is simple, unavoidable, and liberating: wherever you are right now, relish it, for it is already preparing to change. To find peace in this flux, one must learn to seek out the constants.
I’ve learned this truth through countless cycles. If I find myself riding a wave of perfect health, I brace for the inevitable dip—a needed doctor or an injury just around the corner. If my work—my books—is drawing rave reviews and the wind is at my back on the next one, I know the harsh, necessary critic is loading their pen, ready to tear my prose to pieces and writers block is tomorrow’s truth. Life is not a stable plateau; it is a pendulum.
But the truth of the pendulum is also the reversal. The lowest swing is temporary as well. When the blues settle in and I find myself adrift in loneliness, who else but an old friend, thought long forgotten, will knock on the door, proving connection is never truly lost? We are perpetually moving from one place to the next—from success to setback, from darkness to light. This rhythm, this beautiful instability, is the fabric of our existence.
So, I don’t anchor my spirit to the temporary conditions of circumstance. Instead, I look for what remains fixed and immutable.
First and foremost is the enduring, unconditional love of Suzy, my friends, and my family. Their presence is the hearth fire that never extinguishes, regardless of whether my writing career is thriving or failing, or whether I am well or ailing. This is not a prize earned by performance, but a gift given freely, and it is the bedrock against all emotional earthquakes.
Another powerful constant is the unassuming majesty of nature. The slow, steady turning of the seasons, the unhurried arc of the moon, the relentless rhythm of the waves and tide—these continue their reliable performance, offering amazement and comfort without judgment. It reminds me that even within chaos, a deeper, grander order persists.
And finally, the ultimate constant: change itself. I know that stability is an illusion and that transformation is always just around the corner. By accepting this dynamic, I transform the fear of the unknown into an excited readiness. Rather than fighting the flow, I embrace the certainty that something new is coming. Change is not a threat; it is the universal and dependable engine of life, offering the highest form of stability because it is the one thing we can absolutely count on. My job is simply to show up fully in the middle of the transition.
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