Change is an Animal


Change is painful. It’s a normal part of the process. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable… that’s the way it works.

It’s not personal. It’s not punishment— or reward. It is as all of natures change is… a current display of aliveness. The awe and wonder that this life is here at all.

But that’s not the way it’s portrayed.

We tend to think of change always in the future tense — just look up any inspiring quote on change and notice how it refers to a coming time: a slip of hope to hang onto while the cocoon is still hotly on your wings.

So when you see the future is only a present story, one with a hundred thousand possible ends, there’s no more slip to hold onto. Just the change — in the real and raw flex of what it is. Its full and aching clamor, its wide and empty stare… its hot and virile breath on the soft of your neck like a dream.

Its an animal, like you and me. It’s nature. It screams alive.

It sheds its skin, to reveal… more skin. This is a theme, like a clue dropped in bedlam, and only you can pick it up. Whatever is shed, the same is underneath. An iteration of itself, an echo… a new chapter in the very same story, and it’s all right here, right now.

The writhing to get free, is the freedom itself. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?

The claws and fur and skin and teeth… the blood and bone and ash… they’re all your gorgeous animal.

The blooming wild of your forest floor, the dawn and dusk of your landscape, you are in full knowing of your story of unknowns, and it paints this wondrous mystery. And isn’t that mystery enough?

The animal doesn’t care if you think so. The animal will do as she will.

For nature cannot be caught or tamed— and that is what you are.

You're the animal.