What a great post. As I've grown older, my ability to deal with transitions has improved. Moving from the NYC to the suburbs was particularly difficult. That might sound strange coming from a quiet introvert, but the city provided the sense that I was part of something special and needed only to participate when I wanted to. The suburbs are so different. Now, I see the beauty in both environments, visit the city often, and take what feeds my soul from both of them.
Coming from a very large family, I feel like I've been practicing handling death since I was a child. I watched grieving and denial and listened to death bed regrets. I've learned from all of it and can only hope that everything I've learned will make the final transition more peaceful.
I usually am ok with transitions, but they do spark deep emotions in me. Some examples are:
When my husband and I bought our first home, and I was leaving my childhood home. I cried a lot. But once I got to work on making my new house a home, I felt very happy.
When our years of homeschooling came to an end, I questioned everything. This one was very hard on me, because I felt lost. My inner self is a teacher, mentor and caregiver. At the time, I didn't realize I was going to switch gears to caregiving mode, so my true self was still doing what I'm meant to do. It was the leading up to the transition that was much harder than the transition itself.
I used to fear death, associating it with deteriorating as one ages, dying alone, or facing terrible pain. I now don't worry so much about that, but what I'll be leaving behind when I pass--three chronically ill kids, at least one that will struggle without caregiving support. Who will step in? That is my fear about my own death. Not my transition, but theirs.
I love the metaphor about the river becoming the ocean. It speaks to me and soothes my anxiety about transitions, as I envision myself as the river, becoming the thing I love most--the ocean. If we allow ourselves to let go of the fear of transitioning, we might see the bigger picture, open our eyes to the fact that it will bring on something better and even exciting.
I spent the day today with hospice staff and volunteers at a statewide conference and was again amazed at the presence of joy with those who are able to face the transition of life and death with a sense of calmness. I wish this had been the algebra of middle school along with all those other formulas. It is the ultimate ocean we must join with...and as I read this post I thought of all those smaller transitions as a kind of practice for this one...and I started to consider...what if all the poets we love are waiting in the ocean with us...just like our parents or siblings or caretakers were waiting for us at the end of the first day of kindergarten? Wouldn't that be something? I can see the smile on John O'Donoghue's face right now wishing us all, "Welcome!"
With three kids in their early and mid-twenties, in varying stages of transition, this post and the poem resonate so deeply, thank you. I am going to share this with them.
I love this post so much. The artwork, the poem, your reflection. Thank you. I shared it with my 20-year-old daughter who is bound for Japan soon for a summer internship and then will be a senior at university this Fall. I also shared it with my son who will soon be turning 18, graduating high school, then will be college-bound this Fall. Many changes for them, and also for me and my husband, as well. We're all called to grow and move forward. It's what life is. God Bless.
I loved this perspective and I agree (I'm 58). The poem is lovely.
Just a thought....change is sometimes tied to our emotion of fear. Arthur Brooks wrote an article this week on the subject. "How to Face Your Fears" a short read of two minutes. It can be found on his website, The Art and Science of Happiness. It supports what Susan has shared as well. Maybe you'll find it helpful. I know I did. (always learning)
There’s way too much change in life. Change often, but not always, torments and mentally tortures me, and leaves me irreparably scarred. I honestly think the risks of change are enormous, while the benefits to me are little to none.
As a "senior" I'm rather close to that greatest & most challenging of transitions: Death. As a Buddha-Dharma practitioner, I've been taught that our consciousness survives Death--albeit in a state that precludes (normally & with good reason) one - on - one direct interaction with "the living". I'm trying to keep an open mind about that whole mess. In the mundane World, I'm kind of mindful of Frank Herbert's "Litany Against Fear". ;-)
This brings up so much for me it’s hard to know where to begin. In my life most transitions have been accompanied by severe loss/death and grief, most notably the loss of my 18 year old son 3 years ago 3 days after high school graduation. My husband and I thought we had made it to the finish line. He was our last and youngest child, my baby, headed off to Northwestern University (also my Alma matter) and we were to have ushered in the transition of which you are speaking Susan, becoming empty nesters . To say it was a shock would be an understatement. In the 3 years following his death there have been more transitions than I can name, and prior to his death there were many more. I’ve switched careers from a lawyer to a coach to now a writer and guide. I’ve been through divorce, remarriage and blending families, all
while quietly wondering if I would succeed this time. We downsized to a condo (which I dislike immensely) after my son died (it had always been the plan but not under those circumstances) and are soon moving again. I’ve learned that it’s in surrendering to the transitions that are not of our own choosing that we open ourselves to the profoundly humbling opportunity to be born again, to become someone new, a different iteration if we are able to be open and yielding. In January our now youngest living child left for his first job. My husband and I have decided to start a new adventure this Fall by living abroad, yet another transition. This one I’m
Kahlil Gibran is one of my favourite poets but haven't read his work for some years. How timely your reminder about transitions. I'm currently revisiting reminders of the past and decluttering years of family life, as we prepare to sell the house we can no longer fill. Children now heading for their own oceans and me, on the threshold, nervous because I fear deep water. Just as a river must flow, so will I try to do the same. Thank you for this timely lesson Susan.
Susan, I ran home on my first day of 'big' school ... kindergarten I guess it was. Even though my twin brother was with me, I didn't want to be there. So I ran all the way home (20 minutes or so) ...
Mum promptly brought me back and our teacher took extra care of me that day. I didn't have any such troubles after that and soon found I loved school. All the way through in fact.
But physical transitions, ie, going somewhere new, have always challenged me.
Empty nesting can be hard, and my heart goes out to you and your hubby. Often the two of you have to find a new dance, a new way of relating and connecting because so much of the past x years have been taken up with kiddies and being parents.
A friend of mine said the other day who has just stepped into empty nesting that a lot of the same issues (providing, supporting in $ and other material ways) are still present but the kids aren't at home. That's different from our experience as our 2 set off relatively independently (they chose that) ...
I love that poem from the first time I read it in my early teens, fear and death (or the same?) have been subjects of my mind’s inquiring and curiosity since those days, and although I really haven’t struggle with transitions for the most part of my life (grew up moving a lot and thankfully my parents made it easy which maybe is why I was never concern with changes, as an adult so many jobs, cities, people that I feel a “ramblin’ man” lol) but the one transition that I couldn’t managed well, separation and divorce 25 years ago, ironically set me into the path of meditation and spirituality, and was about 10 years ago that I started studying Buddhism (at the beginning with secular approach) and about 5 years ago entered into the studies of the Bardos, (literally means “the in-between” or “transitions”), and nowadays I have formal practices to preparing me to die well, the ultimate transition, finally finding answers to my youth days. By the way, fear not to transitions, you’re living them moment by moment, from your breathing to when you cross a door or walk outside or look at your face in the mirror every morning, it is not the moment per se but the opinion we have about it, as the Stoic in me reminds me every time, and death is just another moment transitioning into another mysterious moment. Much Love.
When I was in my mid 20s, wise elder once told me that the only thing constant in life is change. I will never forget that. It helps me accept that change is a constant and necessary part of living and learning. During transitions I try to remind myself that I will either get something great out of it or I will learn an important life lesson.
What a great post. As I've grown older, my ability to deal with transitions has improved. Moving from the NYC to the suburbs was particularly difficult. That might sound strange coming from a quiet introvert, but the city provided the sense that I was part of something special and needed only to participate when I wanted to. The suburbs are so different. Now, I see the beauty in both environments, visit the city often, and take what feeds my soul from both of them.
Coming from a very large family, I feel like I've been practicing handling death since I was a child. I watched grieving and denial and listened to death bed regrets. I've learned from all of it and can only hope that everything I've learned will make the final transition more peaceful.
Nobody can go back
To go back is impossible in existence
So expressive, yes.
I usually am ok with transitions, but they do spark deep emotions in me. Some examples are:
When my husband and I bought our first home, and I was leaving my childhood home. I cried a lot. But once I got to work on making my new house a home, I felt very happy.
When our years of homeschooling came to an end, I questioned everything. This one was very hard on me, because I felt lost. My inner self is a teacher, mentor and caregiver. At the time, I didn't realize I was going to switch gears to caregiving mode, so my true self was still doing what I'm meant to do. It was the leading up to the transition that was much harder than the transition itself.
I used to fear death, associating it with deteriorating as one ages, dying alone, or facing terrible pain. I now don't worry so much about that, but what I'll be leaving behind when I pass--three chronically ill kids, at least one that will struggle without caregiving support. Who will step in? That is my fear about my own death. Not my transition, but theirs.
I love the metaphor about the river becoming the ocean. It speaks to me and soothes my anxiety about transitions, as I envision myself as the river, becoming the thing I love most--the ocean. If we allow ourselves to let go of the fear of transitioning, we might see the bigger picture, open our eyes to the fact that it will bring on something better and even exciting.
I spent the day today with hospice staff and volunteers at a statewide conference and was again amazed at the presence of joy with those who are able to face the transition of life and death with a sense of calmness. I wish this had been the algebra of middle school along with all those other formulas. It is the ultimate ocean we must join with...and as I read this post I thought of all those smaller transitions as a kind of practice for this one...and I started to consider...what if all the poets we love are waiting in the ocean with us...just like our parents or siblings or caretakers were waiting for us at the end of the first day of kindergarten? Wouldn't that be something? I can see the smile on John O'Donoghue's face right now wishing us all, "Welcome!"
With three kids in their early and mid-twenties, in varying stages of transition, this post and the poem resonate so deeply, thank you. I am going to share this with them.
I love this post so much. The artwork, the poem, your reflection. Thank you. I shared it with my 20-year-old daughter who is bound for Japan soon for a summer internship and then will be a senior at university this Fall. I also shared it with my son who will soon be turning 18, graduating high school, then will be college-bound this Fall. Many changes for them, and also for me and my husband, as well. We're all called to grow and move forward. It's what life is. God Bless.
I loved this perspective and I agree (I'm 58). The poem is lovely.
Just a thought....change is sometimes tied to our emotion of fear. Arthur Brooks wrote an article this week on the subject. "How to Face Your Fears" a short read of two minutes. It can be found on his website, The Art and Science of Happiness. It supports what Susan has shared as well. Maybe you'll find it helpful. I know I did. (always learning)
Fear is the source of so much unhappiness and it takes the form of tears, rage, revenge, and betrayal, to name just a few.
There’s way too much change in life. Change often, but not always, torments and mentally tortures me, and leaves me irreparably scarred. I honestly think the risks of change are enormous, while the benefits to me are little to none.
As a "senior" I'm rather close to that greatest & most challenging of transitions: Death. As a Buddha-Dharma practitioner, I've been taught that our consciousness survives Death--albeit in a state that precludes (normally & with good reason) one - on - one direct interaction with "the living". I'm trying to keep an open mind about that whole mess. In the mundane World, I'm kind of mindful of Frank Herbert's "Litany Against Fear". ;-)
Beautiful poem. Thank you for bringing it back into my life, I had forgotten this one.
Your comments about school struck a chord with me as well. Spot on.
This brings up so much for me it’s hard to know where to begin. In my life most transitions have been accompanied by severe loss/death and grief, most notably the loss of my 18 year old son 3 years ago 3 days after high school graduation. My husband and I thought we had made it to the finish line. He was our last and youngest child, my baby, headed off to Northwestern University (also my Alma matter) and we were to have ushered in the transition of which you are speaking Susan, becoming empty nesters . To say it was a shock would be an understatement. In the 3 years following his death there have been more transitions than I can name, and prior to his death there were many more. I’ve switched careers from a lawyer to a coach to now a writer and guide. I’ve been through divorce, remarriage and blending families, all
while quietly wondering if I would succeed this time. We downsized to a condo (which I dislike immensely) after my son died (it had always been the plan but not under those circumstances) and are soon moving again. I’ve learned that it’s in surrendering to the transitions that are not of our own choosing that we open ourselves to the profoundly humbling opportunity to be born again, to become someone new, a different iteration if we are able to be open and yielding. In January our now youngest living child left for his first job. My husband and I have decided to start a new adventure this Fall by living abroad, yet another transition. This one I’m
excited about.
Kahlil Gibran is one of my favourite poets but haven't read his work for some years. How timely your reminder about transitions. I'm currently revisiting reminders of the past and decluttering years of family life, as we prepare to sell the house we can no longer fill. Children now heading for their own oceans and me, on the threshold, nervous because I fear deep water. Just as a river must flow, so will I try to do the same. Thank you for this timely lesson Susan.
You wrote, "my days. . . will need filling up in ways I have yet to invent."
On the record: I hereby predict that you will have no trouble whatsoever
inventing things to fill up your days.
Honestly, I agree. (But still requires some thinking about)
Susan, I ran home on my first day of 'big' school ... kindergarten I guess it was. Even though my twin brother was with me, I didn't want to be there. So I ran all the way home (20 minutes or so) ...
Mum promptly brought me back and our teacher took extra care of me that day. I didn't have any such troubles after that and soon found I loved school. All the way through in fact.
But physical transitions, ie, going somewhere new, have always challenged me.
Empty nesting can be hard, and my heart goes out to you and your hubby. Often the two of you have to find a new dance, a new way of relating and connecting because so much of the past x years have been taken up with kiddies and being parents.
A friend of mine said the other day who has just stepped into empty nesting that a lot of the same issues (providing, supporting in $ and other material ways) are still present but the kids aren't at home. That's different from our experience as our 2 set off relatively independently (they chose that) ...
Great poem, btw.
Go well, dear Susan.
Thank you, dear Ian!
I love that poem from the first time I read it in my early teens, fear and death (or the same?) have been subjects of my mind’s inquiring and curiosity since those days, and although I really haven’t struggle with transitions for the most part of my life (grew up moving a lot and thankfully my parents made it easy which maybe is why I was never concern with changes, as an adult so many jobs, cities, people that I feel a “ramblin’ man” lol) but the one transition that I couldn’t managed well, separation and divorce 25 years ago, ironically set me into the path of meditation and spirituality, and was about 10 years ago that I started studying Buddhism (at the beginning with secular approach) and about 5 years ago entered into the studies of the Bardos, (literally means “the in-between” or “transitions”), and nowadays I have formal practices to preparing me to die well, the ultimate transition, finally finding answers to my youth days. By the way, fear not to transitions, you’re living them moment by moment, from your breathing to when you cross a door or walk outside or look at your face in the mirror every morning, it is not the moment per se but the opinion we have about it, as the Stoic in me reminds me every time, and death is just another moment transitioning into another mysterious moment. Much Love.
Love this insight re every moment being a transition. Goosebumps- thank you 🙏!
When I was in my mid 20s, wise elder once told me that the only thing constant in life is change. I will never forget that. It helps me accept that change is a constant and necessary part of living and learning. During transitions I try to remind myself that I will either get something great out of it or I will learn an important life lesson.