Bending in the Wind

Happy post-Easter! I had a great Easter. If the celebration of Easter is part of your tradition, hope you had a good one too.

While out for a walk in a high wind the other day, I couldn’t help noticing the flowers. Many were doubled over, their stems bent by the wind. Bent, but not broken. This roused my curiosity. Why was this the case?

Botanists have studied why plant stems can take the pressure of the wind without breaking. The vascular tissue in a plant stem helps stiffen the plant enough to take the wind, while keeping it flexible enough to bend and not break.

While searching the Internet on the subject, I discovered a new word: thigmomorphogenesis, which is

the response by plants to mechanical sensation (touch) by altering their growth patterns

A “mechanical sensation” like wind can cause a plant to change the way it grows. A plant hormone like ethylene also aids in this process.

Imagine that—change inspiring growth in a new way.

You’re probably not here for a botany lesson, so I’ll get to the point. I couldn’t help comparing myself to the plant stems I observed. When the winds of change come, I tense up, rather than welcoming the change as a catalyst for growth. Instead, I plant my feet—the very image of inflexibility. I’m not overly fond of change—especially change involving discipline.

Growing up, my mother used to say that I was stubborn. I preferred to think of it as firmly resistant. But lately I’ve also noticed that the more resistant I am toward change, the easier it is to be broken by an unavoidable change. Bending seems a lot healthier.

For those of you who are reading these words (and I’m grateful you took time to do so), please don’t think this post is a veiled attempt at calling you or anyone else out. It’s totally not. This is what I observed about my own life.

Since Easter is a celebration of new life, I can’t help being reminded that new life can mean a new attitude. I desperately need one. Because like it or not, change comes like the wind. I can either bend with it or break.

How about you? Do you bend with change or resist it?

Photos by L. Marie.

Time for a Change

Ever been in a relationship where your significant other sat you down and said, “It’s time for a change”? (That always sounds ominous, doesn’t it?) Perhaps you were the one who sat someone down and gave that speech. If you or someone you love felt taken for granted or wondered where the magic had gone, perhaps that was the catalyst for initiating the “time for a change” talk.

Are you sitting down? Good. It’s time for a change.

Over the last few days, I’ve thought about this blog and the fact that lately I seem to be repeating myself. Some of the repetition is due to absent-mindedness—a product of the various stressors in my life, along with a need to complete my novel (not exactly a stressor).

To avoid stagnation, I mulled over my options. Cut down on posting? Give up the blog altogether? The latter was not an option I considered for long. After all, relationships take commitment. And I’m committed to this blog and to you who read it.

They’re committed, too, though you might not wish to know exactly to what they’re committed.

So cutting back to posting once a week was the best option for the time being. I don’t want to wear out my welcome after all. I’ll see how that posting schedule plays out. However, I might occasionally have to post twice a week for special events like interviews, cover reveals, and other book-related announcements.

Ironically, this is my second post this week. But I had to post again in order to make the announcement about posting once a week. 🙂 I haven’t decided yet on what day I’ll post from now on. I’m mulling that over.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll continue leaving the light on for me. 🙂 Have a great rest of the week!

Clock from sweetclipart.com. Lamp from clipartlord.com.

Stuck in Neutral

After so many gloomy rainy days, the warm sun beckoned. I ventured outside as eager as a chick bursting through an eggshell, glorying in a sky scrubbed clean of clouds. But enjoyment of the day wasn’t the only thing on my mind. Something bothered me.

I didn’t take this picture, but it provides an idea of what I mean.

I’m not sure why, but a cricket chirping in the bike shed of my apartment building caused me to glance down at the T-shirt I wore—this T-shirt:

And I thought, That’s it. That’s what’s bothering me. I don’t mean the image per se. I’m quite partial to it, actually. No, the idea of movement itself—or the seeming lack thereof in my life—is what bothers me.

Let’s see . . . I’ve sent out manuscript queries; I’ve applied for jobs; I’ve networked. Baby steps these seem—tiny bursts of movement like flickering fireflies.

But I made them, and now I’m waiting for something to happen, or at least some step I can take toward making something happen. For now, I feel stuck in neutral.

Everybody waits for something. Is there something for which you wait? Some of us don’t wait easily. We long too much for something to change—a change for the good.

A scene I recently read really resonated with me. It comes from The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. Without giving away the plot (It’s complicated), I can tell you that the main character, Bastian Balthazar Bux, comes across an unusual house that can change its own rooms. Here’s a small portion of the scene.

After a short silence she said: ‘I think it would like us to move into the next room. I believe it may have arranged something for you.’

‘Who?’ Bastian asked, looking around.

‘The House of Change,’ said Dame Eyola, as if that were the most natural thing in the world.

And indeed a strange thing had happened. The living room had changed without Bastian noticing that anything was going on. (Ende 404)

Would you like to live in a house that could do this? I love this scene, not only for its coziness (I’m partial to scenes like this as well as the scene in Tom Bombadil’s house in Fellowship of the Ring), but because of the theme of change. The house did its best to delight Bastian by changing in such creative ways. I’m reminded also of another delightful book—Tuesdays at the Castle by Jessica Day George, where the castle changes its own rooms.

                    

I love any scene in which someone or something acts toward the good of someone and a delightful change is the result. And that’s key—something that delights. In a year in which bad changes have occurred, I can’t help longing for something good to happen.

Ende, Michael. The Neverending Story. Trans. By Ralph Manheim. New York: Firebird/Penguin, 1983. 404. First printed in Germany as Die Unendliche Geschichte by K. Thienemanns Verlag, 1979. Print.

Blue sky from freetwitterheaders.net. Fireflies from successfulworkplace.com. Neutral gear from georgecastellion.com. Book covers from Gooreads.