What if Change is Indeed the Game?

(the sky briefly brightening up on a rainy morning walk in Munich)

Lately I'm in the thick of it, learning about seemingly fixed life situations having an undeniable timeline of their own. There is a natural pace I can't force along or stop from advancing, as much as I stubbornly try. It's too undeniable to ignore:

Change is inevitable. Change is the surest constant to reckon with.

Change is the nature of life.

What if change is as intimidating as it is liberating, though?

What if we overestimate the need for permanence and underestimate our capacity to roll with life's waves?

What if life isn't meant to "add up" to a grand conclusion?

What if indeed "We tell ourselves stories in order to live," as Joan Didion so pointedly said?

None of us gets away: We drift apart from people we have spent intimate time with. We will have to leave behind situations we felt certain about. What we have become familiar with will no longer seem as aligned as it had possibly all of our life so far.

It's such a complex tapestry that is being woven that we can't grasp the overall logic.

What if you approach your everyday existence more like a dance where each step will take you to where you stand next? And where it took you will be your vantage point for the movement to follow? What if you focus on each move instead of wasting your energy trying to calculate where a pre-set choreography will eventually take you?

Have you ever taken a moment to ponder in how many cases you "end up" precisely where you thought you would?

Have you ever contemplated that some of the most impactful, joyful aspects of your life are something you never anticipated?

What if change is indeed the game?

The Threat and the Promise of Flux

There are some changes that seem easier to grasp as we are conditioned to expect them. Leaving the house you were brought up in, finishing school, possibly going to college, and finishing that phase to embark on the next chapters.

And sometimes life asks us to change without warning in an earth-shattering way that seems impossible to accept, yet is not up for debate. As Joan Didion captures so rawly in The Year of Magical Thinking about the sudden death of her husband: "Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."

Maybe it's this always lingering state of possible change that seems so threatening as it looms over every moment. Yet, it's also why there is always a sense of hope right there with us, even if we are too blinded by trying to stay on a pre-set course chasing security.

I've had life-changing brief connections, like a few surprisingly impactful conversations with strangers on a train that feel like a "contract" lasting exactly for that single ride.

And there are the almost flowing shifts within our body, mind, and soul, that are subtle whispers we easily miss in the noise of our daily hustle. It's that change in your face you suddenly become aware of when looking into the mirror, or the way the trees suddenly seem to have shed all their leaves without you noticing the process as you were too engaged with chasing your daily agenda.

Similarly, after my knee injury, I had this "aha!" moment on a late evening run when I realized the constant pull in my right leg was gone. It came silently over a long period of stretching, accepting, falling back, and going forward again.

Nature has profound examples of change being the way forward:

• Darwin's Finches, birds in the Galápagos Islands evolved different beak shapes to adapt to various food sources, demonstrating natural selection in action.

• Antibiotic Resistance Bacteria have shown remarkable ability to adapt to antibiotics, developing resistance mechanisms over time.

What if life is more about aligning with it´s rhythm than defining a destination?

What if change is the rhythm of life?

What if that rhythm is our inner beat aligning with the ungraspable rhythm of the universe?

What if we digest change to the degree that we surrender to that cosmic dance?

The Wisdom of Letting Go

It's a delicate line to toe: One moment we feel closely aligned, to be harshly exposed the next moment to the pain of having to acknowledge the "contract" unravelling.

Yet inspiringly, I've felt devastated about change, only to come out the other side feeling more aligned with my personal truth (admittedly at times after scrambling extremely unelegantly to come to terms with what I initially rather would not have surrendered to).

There's this warmth and sense of security I feel when sharing a perspective with someone, as it seems to make me feel less alone. Yet, it's also where I easily get myself stuck. It's where I frequently trap myself in wanting to hold onto a shared angle that's rarely meant to last in a solid way. It's where I feel nudged by life to acknowledge that the "happily ever after" might indeed be rooted within rather than fusing myself to an overlap with another human being.

What if we learn to appreciate spending time with someone with "no strings attached"? What if we are brutally honest about not owning anyone or any situation in life? What if this makes each encounter more valuable as we acknowledge that it could be that one chance to learn what the person is meant to teach us as our paths cross?

It can be as tough of a call to let an alignment pass, as it can be to choose ourselves over being temporarily soothed by conforming. Yet the question lingers:

To what degree are you willing to betray your integrity for a sense of safety by conforming to external measures?

What is the price you are willing to pay to escape the pain that comes with releasing a temporary sense of security?

What if the pain of resisting change is ultimately higher than learning to lean in?

Learning from the Masters of Resilience

Life has intertwined me with people who have been asked to bear the unimaginable and still carry on living, alchemyzing agonizing grief in an inspiring way. Their capacity to face change has encouraged me to go beyond what I thought doable in moments I was not too sure I wanted to even try.

It's a wildly inspiring testament to human resilience when people challenge our capacity to surf the harshest waves by proving our assumptions wrong about what degree of change is survivable.

A friend who lost both his children and wife in a car accident taught me the daringly bold capacity to go from feeling sorry for myself, to realizing I can choose to be a co-creator of my life over labeling myself a survivor.

He talks about finding grace within a "second layer of his life," without demanding pain to be annihilated, rather redirecting its powerful energy. He taught me about choosing to see the preciousness of what we still have rather than drowning in self-pity.

He taught me about feeling the whole complex chord beyond a primary sensation of fear, helplessness, anger or grief. He made me aware that the painful wound can exist alongside joy as we integrate the complex kaleidoscope of feelings into a complex whole.

Another friend became the supportive grandmother for the kids of her former son-in-law with his new partner, after her daughter, his former wife unexpectedly died. It would have been easily understandable if she would not ever wanted to be reminded of what she lost. Yet, she is teaching all of us that her healing is rooted in appreciating what she gained by embracing to be part of a family her daughter brought into her life, even as she had to leave it.

Why it's a Chance to Surrender

Change can feel like we're losing control over what we felt we had a grip on. It's like the proverbial carpet being pulled out from under us, making us hit the ground with an unprepared harsh thud.

Change throws us out of our comfort zone. It tilts us towards challenging everything we felt certain about. It pushes us towards the edge of the moment rattling our sense of confidence in what is real, including our identity.

Yet, as intimidating as this is, it's also our chance to reveal our essence beyond the cover stories we soothe ourselves with.

What if by connecting with the motion of change we have to rely on those stories less?

What if by opening up to life as a journey of constant transition, we discover that change isn't just a crucial part of the game but the game itself?

What if the proverbial "game-changer" is boldly shifting our mindset?

The influential Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw stated that "progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds, cannot change anything."

In my experience it's often change that convinces us to change our mind rather than us being able to rationally decide to drop our resistence.

What if we see change as the course we are meant to take, not a path of obstacles we need to get rid of?

What if there is deeper wisdom to the ZEN notion of "the obstacle being the way"?

The Challenge of Letting Go

When I got let go from my last job, people I had shared the vast majority of my time with throughout a decade dropped out of my life from one moment to the next.

It was an imminent, jarring shift. In some cases it was a painful cut I didn't expect. It had me cycle through a whole palette of emotions from disbelief, denial, and anger, feeling abandoned, and rejected to relief, gratitude, and sensing a chance I hadn't even dared hope for.

Exiting that system I had derived a sense of belonging from triggered feelings of isolation as my former context relentlessly prevailed. It felt as if I'd been ejected from a mechanism that carried on, oblivious to whether I was part of it.

It's also what pushed me to ponder which system it was that I truly needed to let go of.

What if the systems we need to challenge most are the ones we carry within?

Have you ever challenged your habitual default settings? Have you ever questioned to what degree you bow to “how things are done” out of conditioned reflex?

What if similarly to how nature transitions throughout fall, embracing change is the way forward? What if it's your internal resistance to those cycles that causes mental and physical pain? What if feeling depleted comes from resentment, not the actual change you are pinning your lack of energy on?

After rolling around in those initially intense emotions when having been let go, the impact started to pale. The change began to feel less personal. From that new angle I caught myself wondering if it had ever been as personal as it had felt in the first place?

What if change happens for us not to us? What if life knows when we are ready to walk though a door? What if we only become aware of it when we are ready to cross the threshold?

Why We Huddle Together

A friend who runs a café bar told me he observes all day how people mostly confirm the validity of their lifestyles to each other when catching up. And how one person changing the familiar game always seems to rattle the dynamic.

We seek solace in running with the flow of an acknowledged system. We align with each other because it makes us feel seen and validated. We conform, as it soothes the loneliness of isolation that can come with going against the grain.

Keeping change at bay often appears safe upon superficial look. Yet, I wonder how that safety weighs against the path of true autonomy.

What if we bet on ourselves and take chances that make change inevitable? What if holding ourselves accountable is about choosing the messy side effects of change over conforming to a norm of illusionary safety? What if this is how we go beyond anesthetizing ourselves towards truly connecting with life?

In the corporate settings I've worked in, people often seemed strongly identified with a role on the surface. In the haze of daily chores there was barely any exchange beyond the "mission."

This dynamic led to primarily communicating from role to role, barely grazing the personal level. And while a role has its place so that the interaction of countless people and the interdependence of departments can function, going beyond the official status can be the crucial missing link in a crisis.

On a silver lining note, it's often a crisis that ultimately changes the relationships, as we're tested to connect in a new way. It's what pushes us to lower our protective shields of official roles and titles to connect on a level beyond fear of exposure.

It's how we use change as a chance to expand.

What if you allow things to fall apart so they can reassemble in a new way?

What if what's falling apart is actually creating space? What if that space is the crucial ingredient you need to be more alert towards the constant shifts that are a lingering chance?

What if you consider that situations stay in your life only as long as you need them?

What if what feels like rejection is actually setting you free? Be it a job, where you live, the people coming in and out of your life, or how long you are capable of doing a certain thing.

What if you relax into the process and release what has run its course?

What if any situation you are faced with, every friendship, every experience, is only borrowed from life as we pursue the journey of our soul?

Alan Watts encourages us that "The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance."

What if what is no longer working is the wisdom of the universe redirecting you towards further expansion?

What if change is life helping you move closer to aligning with your inner North?

What if change is your ally if you choose to engage?

Change: The Antidote to Diminishing Returns

In the design industry, change isn't just common—it's expected. Throughout working for multiple companies, each experience draws out different talents and introduces new dynamics. This constant flux has exposed my friends and myself to diverse environments and connections that come together and fall apart almost organically.

It's a path that pushes you towards gaining comfort with instability, asking you to adapt to each new beginning following just as many endings. It's tested my resilience repeatedly when relocating to different countries.

However, it's also taught me that change, while initially uncomfortable, can be re-framed as warming up to a new familiarity that needs time to find its footing.

Socrates claimed that the secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.

What if it's the resistance we get in our own way with?

What if we surrender to the uncomfortable truth that it's okay to not be okay?

What if we consider that discomfort is an unavoidable part of life? That we will feel miserable, or not even be enthralled with life at all from time to time. That pain is often the sensation of things finally unclenching, softening, releasing, and re-patterning how we face the next phase.

Change is a two-way road. As much as we want to resist change when we feel it's taking us away from the familiar, change is also our portal to relief.

The tricky thing is that we don't get to pick only one version.

Anaïs Nin stated: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Consider asking yourself when resisting change is more risky than leaning in.

Diminishing Returns

With anything we primarily perceive as the perfect situation the effect will eventually wear off. It's what so conveniently keeps our consumer society going as we scramble for relief we don't ever fully find, as the most perfect anesthetic finally loses traction.

A friend of mine that runs a hut on a mountain peak where I can't stop staring out onto the incredible scenery whenever I am there always tells me that he doesn't really see it anymore after a while. It's the reason he embraces that it is a seasonal job, as the change lets him come back to it every time with new appreciation.

In a similar way life's vibrancy is about seasons. Resisting seasons is kind of like resisting the process of life. It's probably why European friends that moved to CA mentioned how they miss the winter they used to dread as it gave them a sense of orientation while the effect of the consistent good weather in their new location is surprisingly wearing off.

The Most Crucial Shift: From the Inside Out

While these outer changes reflect our journey of constant transformation, it's the capacity to shift our mindset that defines our life.

Consciously practicing change creates an opportunity to strengthen our ability to adapt and grow, much like exercising a muscle.

It can be as simple as taking a different route to a known place, going to the cinema by yourself if you never have, shopping at an unfamiliar supermarket, or brushing your teeth with the non-habitual hand.

The business world offers compelling examples of how perspective can lead to remarkable success, while resistance can lead to a harsh landing:

• After being forced out of Apple in 1985, Steve Jobs returned in 1997 to lead a major turnaround. He shifted the company's focus to innovative products like the iMac, iPod, and iPhone, transforming Apple into one of the world's most valuable companies.

• Netflix successfully transitioned from a DVD-by-mail service to a streaming platform, and then to a content creator, making it a leader in entertainment. I still amusingly remember putting DVDs into a return envelope when living in NY as Netflix started as a mailing service.

• Conversely, resistance to change can lead to dire consequences, as illustrated by the tragic case of Kodak. Despite inventing the first digital camera in 1975, Kodak's inability to fully embrace the digital photography revolution led to its bankruptcy in 2012.

  It's a warning to roll with the punches all the way. It's similar to the story of BlackBerry, which refused to shift from its physical keyboard and proprietary software until it was too late.

The inevitable cycle of change ultimately dictates that whatever comes together will eventually fall apart. Conversely, whenever we resist the dissolution, we hold up the renewal. If we hold on to what wants to be let go, the clutter starts to pile up like a sink full of used dishes.

Heraclitus famously declared that "No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

It's a reminder that change is the way, and life is a constant process of transition, not a solidified state to arrive at. It´s meant to flow the same way the motion of a river gives it its character, vibrancy, and sense of eternity in the moment.

What if change is not just the nature of the game but the game itself?

Have You Asked Yourself:

• How can you reframe your perception of change from a threat to an opportunity? What are you scared of most?

• How set are you in your ways? Can you take a different route to work merely to see how it feels?

• Do you take the same dish every time you go to a restaurant?

• How have past changes in your life, even difficult ones, ultimately benefited you?

• What support systems can you cultivate to help you navigate future changes?