The Story of Change – September Essay
I could not think of a theme for this month, even if I circled about a half a dozen. Mornings, Autumn, Self-acceptance, Emotions, Awareness and a few others seemed to be the one at the moment, but I could not commit to any. And since I did not want to plan 12 themes, allowing my creativity room for meandering, some months were a real struggle.
But there is this freedom of choice and of writing out of the plan, the exact opposite of writing the novel, so I welcome the struggle and the inspiration of the moment, I accept it and I love it.
It is the main change from my daily writing work, and despite it all, it is a good change. And since this month somehow the winning theme is change itself, let us dwell on it for a while. More exactly for 1000 words.
Last month we (a Creative Writing Workshop Alumni) published a short stories anthology and, to be honest, I was expecting a somewhat emotion on seeing it online, available for purchase, especially the “I am a published author” part.
That was a change I did not experience, even if I wrote two short stories (one of which you can read for free in my Short stories page: An Oxford Story). Perhaps I wanted to see a change in my life, in my writing, in my life or anything, let’s say, tangible.
Anyhow, feeling the change or not, things are not the same. Now vulnerability kicked in and I am more prone to keep my writing to myself. Quite counter-productive, I would say, but – on the self-acceptance topic mentioned earlier – I take it.
Another change that I can actually feel, is the beginning of autumn, and I am thrilled. We’re one season away from Christmas bliss and I so ready for it. I write this now with the window still open, a soft violin is playing somewhere outside, but there’s a crisp in the mornings and in the evening that makes my heart flutter and invite the change in.
I have survived summer this year and I am grateful. My writing is going well and I am grateful. My everything is uncharacteristically fine and I am grateful.
But things have changed. Friends have come and friends have gone, even really good-old friends, relationships have evolved or devolved, and even my own self has changed to some extent in the past few months of 2019.
When I have started 2019, I felt it in my soul that it will be a Phoenix year, and talking to my friends, there was some sort of mutual feeling of an upcoming change. It is rather weird to take a step back and watch things evolve (or devolve), starting with your own personality. There are traits that have grown, others that have diminished to the brink of extinction. The planet is changing, people feel more aware and more awake, the struggle for fighting for the greater good has felt rawer and more powerful. People of all ages are coming together to make their voices boom over the static of daily life, some are kids, some are elders who transform their land in a bee sanctuary, some are refusing plastic in all its shapes and some started composted piles, to try to reinvigorate a parched and torn piece of land. We have planted this spring more bee-friendly flowers and used little to none toxic pesticides, and – even if the crops have suffered – somehow seeing again bees and butterflies made it all good. I believe this change was imminent. People were to wake up at one point or another, I just pray we woke up in time.
We have hope. And they do say that hope begins in the dark, and if we, as humankind aren’t at the moment in the darkest of the darks, then I may be a more pessimistic person than I have thought.
“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.”