Falling Apart, Falling Together
I watch the leaves fall, hues of red and yellow littering the ground in fiery glory. They mingle amongst the grass, a dance of sorts, as the wind blows to and fro. I know that, soon, they will be gone for another year. Winter will usher in its chilly barrenness, then spring will burst forth with its pink hues. Summer will come with warmth and glow, and then the leaves will fall again.
Our world is forever becoming and un-becoming.
And so are we.
Our identities shift like tectonic plates. We are children becoming adults. Adults becoming parents who still feel like children. We are students becoming career people who still feel like students. We are broken, and we are healing. We are unlearning, and we are learning. We are one thing, and then another.
We are falling apart, and we are falling together.
Life is really an ongoing process of becoming, yet many of us feel as if our sense of self should be static. We should be confident and self-assured as our world changes around us, letting our sense of self be the sure tide that guides us. We should transition from maternity leave to motherhood with a sense of settling. We should switch from career to retirement with excitement. We should graduate, or get a job, or leave a job, or start a hobby, and know who we are the whole time.
Until we discover we don’t. We knew who we were in one context, but this knowledge does not extend to another. Life changes, the ground shakes below us, and we wonder who we are or where we went. The new parents hold their baby, stare into its eyes and touch its little nose, and they think “who are we now?” The athlete holds their last trophy, hangs up their shoes, and thinks “who am I now?” The executive holds a cardboard box filled with their office belongings, and thinks “who am I now?”
They will wonder for the rest of their lives, for the answer to this question is simple but vague.
Human. That is who you are.
The ground will forever shift and change below you. Life is less about knowing who you are in the midst of these changing circumstances, but allowing the different versions of yourself to unfold in each one. There is a part of this that can be uncomfortable, or scary, or uncertain. But there is also a part of this that is a beautiful, mysterious, and humbling act of discovery.
The tree is beautiful in each season, and so are you. Let yourself fall apart.
You might find yourself falling together.