Transitions

As a student of Dressage, the word “transition” has clear meaning.  Going from the walk to the trot, from the trot to the canter, from the trot to a halt – these are all called “transitions”.

Jump over to my religious beliefs and the word takes on a completely different meaning.  To make your transition is to die, or to pass on.  We say that to do so is simply part of life.  You do not disappear or go away forever, you merely change form.  Death, therefore, is not to be feared but to accept as a transition from bodily form to ethereal form.

Lately I have contemplated a third definition of the word.  I remember when my older son was young and his father and I had gone through a divorce.  (“For Dear Life”).  He told me it was very hard for him to stay with me and then go to his Dad’s for a weekend or longer, where he adapted to his father’s house and then had to come back and be with me again.  The discomfort brought on by changing houses does not only apply to children.

I recently visited my younger son and his wife in Portland, Oregon.  I was only there for five days but upon first getting there I had to adjust to my new surroundings.  After the first day or two it was very comfortable for me.  I had my own bedroom and bath, had hung clothes in the closet and laid out my toiletries in the bathroom.  I had quickly developed a routine and was flowing with the many hours that passed over me, like sand in an hourglass.

Next thing I knew, it was time to go back home.  I had to pack up my clothes that hung in the closet.  I had to remove my toiletries from the bathroom.  I turned around and looked back as I closed the bathroom door.  Now it could be anyone’s bathroom, I thought.  It no longer had my stamp on it.

Coming home to my wonderful husband should have been a very happy transition.   Well, it was, and it wasn’t.  I felt strange when I first got here.  I was lost.  I missed my children.  I missed being in their flow of life.  I had adapted to it and now I had to re-adapt to my own flow.  All natural, of course, but it bothered me initially.  I felt sad and disconnected.

Now it is day three at home and things are feeling more like normal again.  I have been to the barn to ride my horse, gotten a pedicure at the place I always go to, and grocery shopped in my neighborhood.  Yes, life is beginning to feel more familiar, more like my own life.  I know from experience that soon my visit up north will be a wonderful memory and I will fight to hold onto the “normalcy” of being right here where I belong.

Transitions allow us to adjust to our surroundings, to changes in our lives, and I think that is a very good thing.