Change. It’s a word we dread almost instinctively. “I won’t change for anyone,” our brain seems to immediately protest. “I can make my own decisions.”
Often, that dread arises from a singular notion of individualism – no one can make me do anything.
But why do we look at it this way? Why, in other words, has change become so intertwined with a sense of subjectivity?
Because change must happen. As we begin experimenting with the opening of the American economy and other countries begin relaxing their own stricter forms of containment, we must recognize that change is a necessity.
At the very surface level, social distancing must still occur. The novel coronavirus hasn’t simply disappeared in the month or so since America tightened its restrictions on containment. We haven’t become immune to the virus and its deathly grip. We still don’t have all of the necessary knowledge needed to truly understand the spread of COVID-19.
And, surely, our relatively brief enforced quarantine has caused some reflection on the nation and world around us, but also on ourselves and our community.
In the brave new world that lies ahead, our actions will very much affect those around us. For instance, if we fail to continue consciously practicing the health recommendations of hand washing, mask-wearing and social distancing, the lives and livelihood of those around us – and our own lives and livelihood – are at risk.
But more importantly, if we look beyond the interwoven identification of change with the individual, we see this concept in a new light.
For, after all, change can mean progress. It can mean development. It can mean opportunity.
Each day, I’m reminded of this aspect of the definition. Each day brings some new development in the lives of my children. Too often, I find myself pleading, “Can time slow down?” Looking at the images of them in the hospital in the days after their birth, they hardly look the same. In looking at photos even from Thanksgiving or Christmas, I find only traces of the features I see every day.
Just a week ago, we introduced rice puffs and dissolvable crackers. They couldn’t seem to do much beyond simply pushing them around on their trays. Sticky, mushy messes streaking their faces and congealing in their hair.
Now, their pincer grasp allows them to pick the pieces up and bring it to their mouths. One seems to get the hang of it relatively easily; the other has yet to learn that he must let the piece go for it to enter his mouth. But, hey, we’re making progress.
Because, ultimately, change is about progress. It’s about a movement forward. It can be something that is optimistic, if only we allow it to be a harbinger of good.