Transformation

There is a piece in the recent New York Times titled Transformation, that I read. There are aspects of it that speak to me through the written word-that which is said and that which is left unsaid. The piece addresses this time as a time of transformation, as a time where change has shifted us, altered something within.

Reading this piece on the day that I chose to carve out time to answer the questions my aunt offered from the survey I began in January, has me pondering what this time has offered me, what this time is still offering me and how I reflect on this time. This time meaning COVID-19, the pandemic, this time for us as a collective as well at this time for me as an individual, the year in which I have lived with and am supported by my family.

I have left traces of my thinking, my process, my life throughout the year here. I have many traces of my year in my journals. I chose the word traces, to indicate marks, markers, evidence of my growth, my evolution, my shift. Marks and traces feel important for some reason, since transformations for many, can be internal, unseen to and unnoticeable by many. As I type this, I glance to the flowers in the garden, that are here now, but were once unseen, working, growing, underground and then here they are. Simultaneously showing me at the same time, transformations can be seen, they are observable, they are noticed.

Maybe it is about who is doing the seeing. What is being seen? What is being observed? Are we only looking on the external, on the outside to see what has changed, or really to see if there has been change?  How does one notice change?  How does one observe change?

Change is happening all of the time. In time, things change. The passage of time is change. Time passes and we cannot get it back. Rather we access the memory of it, or as I have been doing, leaving traces. Marks, markers of time that I can trace back, go back to and observe, read, revisit, remember. Why do I do this? I write and record to literally leave marks in time, like time stamps of where I was, what I was doing, what I was thinking at the time. Evidence, proof, verifiable evidence to show that I have grown, that I am changing, that I am evolving.

Why does this matter?  Maybe it is it to show that change is possible.  That if you are willing, anything is possible. While some change is noticeable from the outside, other change is happening on the inside.  It is the change that is on the inside that I am interested in. I am curious about the evolution of our being. Not the markers of success of something someone has done, achieved or gained. Not the markers of success that is external, based on some set of rules and competitive markers. No, it is not this that I am interested in. Rather I am interested in how we are becoming more ourselves by being. By being with ourselves. By being human beings rather than human doings.

We are conditioned to do. Do this. Say this. Don’t do this. Don’t say that. There are rules upon rules of how we are supposed to be, what we are meant to do. What we are supposed to achieve, what we are supposed to become. These rules, spoken and unspoken, modeled and shown carry deep implications on how we view the world.

There has to be something beyond this. There has to be something more than these markers of success of having, gaining, arriving, achieving. I have, for a long while, be interested in learning more about myself. There has always been a pull to dive deep within, to understand myself, to make sense of life. I explore this by being curious. By reconnecting to the voice within, my inner voice, the inner knowings. By being comfortable with myself. By sitting in silence and being with myself. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. No thing to do. Nothing. Simply be. Notice.

Noticing the thoughts that are arising. Noticing the stories that I tell myself. Noticing the perceived perceptions that I make. Noticing the lenses through which I view. Noticing when something within me grabs a on to a thought and holds me there. Noticing the stillness. Noticing the silence, the absence of thought and story, the absence of narrative and control.

You know what I notice? That there is a voice that is not me, yet it is me. It is a voice that tells me these things based on previous experiences, that tells stories to maintain a certain view, that tells me how to perceive, how to make sense, how to respond.

It is in these noticings, this awareness, the witnessing of how I perceive, how I make meaning, how I interpret, that I record, that I write down to leave traces. From these traces, I see the transformation. I see the evolution. I see the change.

Slowly, slowly.

Onward and Upward.

One moment at a time.

Smiling with gratitude that I have the choice,

Sara