The wind is invisible. But when you look outside the window towards a cloudy autumn day, I tell you — you will see the wind. It silently but madly blows confusion to the leaves. Chaos, is an understatement for the leaves and the branches. They shiver and face what’s going on with their last strength of green they hold onto.
I’ve been thinking much about what change is recently. Cliche? I know. Who else but an immature college senior during her fall semester, looking to graduate in less than a year think about such matter? Change became an exceptional reality that stands next to every corner of the streets and hides under every page of books I’ve been encountering.
My thought so far is this: change is a motion — a motion that bends and stretches. There comes tensions and conflicts; unorganized emotions; undercurrent desires; doubts; questions; unsettling answers; logical disputes; and dissatisfaction. The heart often becomes the victim for all the movement and heat. They call it “it rubs your heart in a wrong way.” I call it the growing pain. And it should hurt a little to do the right thing. So I am learning to be hurt. I choose to be one of the autumn leaves. One day I will remember them as wonderful colored leaves, dancing in the flow of the rhythm of what’s coming next. And one day, I will remember that I were one of them.