***SPOILER ALERT: MINOR SPOILER FOR MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE***
Chipping in this week is Sarah’s Pre-K pal, Clay!
Clay is a floating leaf in summer storm. She welcomes chaos equal to grace and navigates her course freely, led by her vibrant intuition. Over the course of our 24-year, on-again-off-again friendship, I’ve seen Clay tumble upwards, downwards, sideways, and every which way in between. Though it’s never certain which opportunity or adventure might blow in ahead of her next, Clay always rises to meet the challenge.
Growing up on different ends of the same small town, Clay and I have weathered a lot of change together – in ourselves, in our hometown roots, and in the world – and we have similar, sensitive responses to the instability. It sometimes proved difficult to watch a town you once knew transition into something unfamiliar, and we both experienced a grievance period after graduating university and transitioning into the “real world.”
Amidst these swirling winds of change and uncertainty, Clay’s longtime and unwavering friendship has been one of my most treasured constants. Clay has always been a source of energy and encouragement to me, and we have embarked on all sorts of adventures together, from zip-lining to snow-tubing to concert-going and all sorts of shenanigans in between.
Our friendship has also been marked in different ways across our many eras. In Pre-K, we played. In middle school, we adventured and created. In high school, we rebelled innocently and explored our creative interests. In college, we brought each other stories and souvenirs from our travels. Now, we text each other once in a blue moon – much less often but with just as much endearment. One of our iconic eras was even marked by a Build-a-Bear date, on which we wound up building the same style bear, down to their slightly firm plushness and their adorable, checkered hearts.
Each of our eras has been meaningful, and I wouldn’t trade any one of them for the world. As time has passed in our friendship, however, I’ve noticed that the transitions between each era feel bittersweet.
In writing, in editing, and in life, transitions are always my greatest struggle. I tend to hold on to what I know, and it is often challenging for me to let new lives in because I usually come to love the moment that I’m destined to leave.
As a kid, I often threw tantrums and hid when playdates ended. I also resisted growing up as much as possible, and I suffered through my fair share of heartbreaks when the sun set on friendships.1
I was never ready for fun to end.
Ironically, now my professional life is ever-changing. So, I’ve found myself in an almost perpetual point of transition. And I’m coming to prefer it.
Though it is always bittersweet to wrap a show, I think the ephemeral nature of my industry has given me the great gift of exposure therapy to practice the art of healthy emotional detachment.
When I am hired on a show2, I am assigned a specific role and only have influence over a small piece of the production puzzle. With much practice, accepting my limited influence and relinquishing control has taught me to appreciate each gig for its unique challenges and opportunities as well as to rely on the other people on the crew to help tell the story.
Last summer, I had this poignant exchange with a coworker:
“Change is hard,” I said.
They responded thoughtfully, “It can be.”
I sighed with frustration; they were right.
Change can be hard, but it doesn’t have to be. Like most everything, change can be a variety of experiences, depending on the context as well as one’s perception of it.
It does seem, though, that change hurts less when faced with less resistance. The times I’ve chosen to accept change with authenticity, to let go of my attachment to the old, and to move forward guided by my heart and intuition have proven to be the smoothest transitional paths.
Some things change in a big way while others simply shift. My friendship with Clay is longstanding and secure; while we haven’t always been active in each other’s lives, we tend to develop ourselves quite a bit in between each time we catch up, and that self-development paired with our mutual trust allows our friendship to grow fonder and fonder.
My acceptance of change is akin to my acceptance of death; I have always been at peace with inevitable death, which probably encourages me to learn to love each moment that I am in. So, if I can learn to think of each season of my life as ending in a “death,” perhaps I can sand the transitions down and grow a peaceful presence in each season I find myself in.
My seasons should be measured by the challenges I overcame, the love I gave and received, and the growth I achieved rather than the loss of the moment and the regret of any paths not pursued while I was in it.
Shifting my lack mindset could be a change for the better. While it will be a never ending practice, I am certainly open to the magic it may bring.
For now, to bear this burden, I think I’ll embody my inner Kelly Clarkson and “make a wish, take a chance, make a change, and breakaway.”
Luckily, with Clay, though, some things never change.
Memento mori, friends.
Tumble through Clay’s personal blog as well as her art blog on Tumblr and check out more of her art on Instagram as well as snaps from her many lives.
Select referenced materials:
All music for the podcast lovingly created by Ian T. Jones.
And now, I get irrationally angry when I hear the heat/AC turn on.
Which, ideally, is also a work of art in progress!
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