Riding the Current: On Surrender, Change, and ComingHome to Yourself
by Saffire Bouchelion
It looks like it is time to move...again. I was invited to be the anchor tenant in a beautiful home, and for the past year it has been (mostly) magnificent. The view from my bedroom and bathroom is like something you might expect to see in a vacation rental. I am particularly fond of the shower and the west facing windows that open up to edible gardens at dusk.
Our landlord, heartbroken, decided he needed to sell the house he had raised his family in. The arrival of A.I. has all but decimated his long-time income streams of website design and video production.
After less than a year here, I was just beginning to settle in on a deeper level, and am now tasked with the need to create another place to call home. I have yet to meet the person who is able to remain neutral when faced with relocation. My housemates have largely moved out at this point, leaving me with a month of living alone once again. I actually love that part.
This waking to silence, answering only to the noise I generate myself is a kind of Heaven for me. It is one I had for 4 years before asking this group of friends to move in with me, and one I’m looking forward to creating for myself again.
However, as I bask in the serenity of my background utopia, the reality splashes loudly to the surface...change is coming, again.
Many people say change is the only real constant. They know that one of the secrets to joyous living is the ability to remain in the yes/and dance of life between what is desired, and what is currently presenting.
Yes, change is coming – and I have decided this time that I’m going to surrender, guide the current with intention, presence and self-love, and most of all, allow myself to simply enjoy the ride.
Three Ways to Move Through Change with Grace
Name what you’re leaving, and honor it. Before you rush toward what’s next, take a quiet moment to acknowledge what this chapter gave you. A beautiful view. A lesson. A version of yourself you needed to be. Grief and gratitude can live in the same breath.
Find the one thing in your current moment that is purely yours: a ritual, a corner of quiet, a daily walk, a cup of tea made exactly how you like it. Anchor yourself in that. It will hold you while everything else is in motion.
Practice saying “yes, and” out loud, even to the things you didn’t choose. Yes, this is hard, and I trust that I know how to find my way. It isn’t resignation. It’s the difference between being swept away and swimming with the current.
