I’ve been talking a lot lately about the fact that we are sort of in a holding pattern, waiting on other people to take action that will allow us to proceed with plans in place.
If I were less of an individualist that wouldn’t be a big issue — as I suppose it is not for many people. If you work in a large organization waiting is part and parcel of life. If you have a routine driven life then waiting can be a routine part of life. And goodness knows that if you are in the military — waiting seems interminable.
Those of us who avoid all of those and more can be by habit irritatingly impatient.
So, while we were walking yesterday — it was a beautiful day for a walk along lake Michigan — I was thinking about the process of change.
When you get to a fork in life’s road there are really at least TWO (2) different ways in which change happens.
- First there is the decision about how to react to change. Do you want it? Do you want to resist it? If you change, how will you change?
This is the macro choice. I think for many of us it looms as the huge decision about what to do. - But there is another “decision” — not really one choice but really many, many choices that lie ahead of you. Those are the choices of transition.
I wonder which is most difficult. In times of change I find that the Yes/No choice about whether I want to change is the one I stress over. But the multitude of decisions concerning the minutia of life’s details often take far longer to work through and consume far more time.
Take for example our situation with the sale of our home. We have talked from time to time during the last 6 years about how long we wanted to stay here. We considered health and expenses and all those things you consider when you’re thinking about selling a house. It was a slow process. We felt no stress for a long while because it was something we were “talking” about — we weren’t really in decision making mode — it was all just talk.
When Peggy decided to retire the luxury of just “talking” about it changed. Now it became a real choice. We took some months and went over our options at this particular time in history; and we made a choice. This was a good time to move on.
What we faced next proved to be a far more interesting and oft-times frustrating experience — one in which we are still mired down. There are thousands of small decisions that need making. I can say “things like downsizing” but to say it and do it are worlds apart. Downsizing isn’t an entity it’s a new decision about every single item. And many of those decisions are accompanied by emotions you never knew you had invested in a silly piece of something, a bit of kitsch, a scrap of cloth, a tool you grand father used.
Don’t get me wrong. I am 100% looking forward to the direction we are taking. What I was not prepared for is the realization that I am sometimes someone I little know and often misunderstand. Items I thought had no sentimental value seem quite different when faced with the option of chucking it into the trash bin. I also am coming to realize just how much my artist’s sense of values differs from other people. There are a lot of things I consider junk — that I am ready and rarin’ to throw away — that people keep telling me, “You aren’t throwing THAT away, are you?”
“Junk” to an artist — specially to a photographer — has a different meaning than “junk” to others.
In a morning in studio with a model I may snap 1000 images. Of those I fully intend to throw away 95%. But when I have the model present, and I am hoping for the slightest variation in facial expression, it’s the easiest thing to just keep tripping the shutter. I can always throw them away — and I do. They are not what I’m looking for. They are of no value to me. And on some level many of life’s possessions are just the same.
I am at my base a Christian for whom the resurrection is as real as drawing breath. My destination has always been to be with my Savior. Others have not always understood the path I took towards that goal but I know full well what my behavior has been and I find no conflict at all. So, this earth has always been a strange land, and I have always been a pilgrim. I find nothing odd about that; I find it odder that other Christians don’t always feel the same. And when you are a pilgrim you are limited in how much of this earth you can drag along with you.
Now, if you have ever seen me travel you may be tempted to question my sense of limits. On family vacations my wife has long teased that I take more luggage with camera gear than luggage with clothing. And in the days when we travelled in a Ford Minivan it was always packed to the ceiling, and now when we travel in a much smaller Toyota Matrix it’s laughable how much I can get inside.
But inconsistencies aside, I am actually looking forward to shucking most of the stuff that now fills the house and getting down to our George Carlin-esque “Small Version” of our stuff. Peggy and I are both looking forward to a more artistically centered retirement with less attention to Internet, less attention to TV, and less focus on chores needing doing around this big old place.
I’m coming to see transition as the much harder process. And being in a limbo awaiting decisions by the city, and or the choice of having to find a different buyer for the building — that part is annoying — you cant just move forward you have to wait.
So, as I wrote a few days ago, I’m working on being ready and waiting. ….. we’ll see how that goes…..








