Change Change Change

Constant change.

It’s a term I’ve heard countless times before, but it’s also one that I never really deemed relevant to my own life – up until now. It’s not so much the actual concept of continuous change that’s foreign to me. Rather, it’s the juxtaposition of the two words – seemingly opposites – that didn’t really make sense to me until recently.

I’ve been busy these past few weeks with balancing work and my personal life – it’s amazing (and disheartening) to see just how easily the bolstering of one so often comes at the cost of the other. Not to say that having both is impossible, just that it’s a lot harder now more than ever to find a happy medium between the two. Being on the brink of the “real world” means having to distinguish between possible and impossible aspirations.

It means having to choose which goals to pursue, and which to abandon as pipe dreams.

It means having to keep up with the constantly shifting dynamics of life and rolling with the punches.

It means, in short, sacrifice.

Constant.

“So she’s an organic farmer now,” she says between mouthfuls of sandwich. She grabs at a napkin on the wooden desk between us, absent-mindedly brushing a few wayward crumbs from the side of her mouth. She’s having a PB&J sandwich on rye, same as yesterday and the day before that. Not because it’s her favourite, but because it’s quicker to make the same sandwich for her and Sophie each morning than to pick and choose ingredients when she’s rushing out the door. When you have a four-year-old, convenience always outweighs taste.

“Who?”

I turn from the computer screen, finally pulling my eyes away from the blinking text cursor that had been taunting me for the past 20 minutes. My writer’s block isn’t going anywhere, and neither, apparently, is my story. I can afford to spare five minutes away from assignment, and maybe even keep my sanity while I’m at it.

“My friend Becky,” she says patiently. “She’s always loved farming, so when she found out they were downsizing at the Times, she beat them to the punch and quit. To become an organic farmer.”

She repeats this last part because it’s just that important. She takes another bite of sandwich before continuing. It’s almost as though she thinks clearer when she talks around her food.

“She says she was floating. She didn’t know where journalism was going to take her, so she decided to pursue the one passion she’s always had in her life – farming.”

“And she’s happy?”

It seems like a silly question, because if her friend had given up a degree, a semi-stable career and the modest income that came with it, she must be happy. She had sacrificed what appeared on the surface to be certainty for what was, in actuality, more definite than anything else in her life – her first love: farming.

“Yep, she’s more than happy. She figured that working day in and day out at a job that only semi-fulfilled her just wasn’t going to cut it. Life is too short. You look for the things that really get you and grab all your attention and you go toward them. Think about what you always find yourself drawn to, your constants, and you’ll find a way to make it work.”

Being a journalist means sacrificing sleep, family time, personal time, and perhaps most importantly, a bit of your sanity. No two days are ever the same, but in the whirlwind of responsibility and reporting that is journalism, there is always that one constant: passion. Or at least, this is what I hope.

Change.

“The market’s horrible right now,” he says, leaning back in his tall leather chair, stretching his arms up and out in feign relaxation. I don’t envy him these days. What used to be a pretty steady, reliable career has now become little more than a waiting game – play with numbers and hope that your company makes it out on top to see another day. Each day is another round of Russian roulette, and the stress of it all is obviously taking its toll.

His health is waning, the bags under his eyes more pronounced, his entire demeanor more ragged. Nothing is certain except that nothing is certain. The stocks do their daily dance and bankers everywhere can only watch helplessly.

“So you should switch out, try your hand at something different if it’s so stressful,” I offer.

“Nah, it’s not that horrible…yet,” he laughs. “For now, the unpredictability’s kind of exhilarating, it makes work exciting. I mean, it used to be that every day was exactly the same – no risks, just plugging away at numbers. Now….now there’s something at stake. My job. Everything I do counts.”

Constant change.

So if this is the case, then maybe it isn’t consistency or change that fuels people who are stuck in otherwise chaotic or stagnant jobs, respectively. Maybe it’s just knowing that, at the end of the day, you can count on tomorrow being as unpredictable as today. Maybe knowing that you need to be on edge all the time is the key to happiness in a career.

Maybe.

At the risk of sounding cliché (who am I kidding – I only write in clichés…), change is inevitable. But now I know that trying to establish a healthy balancing act between past and present, personal and public, is actually not only inevitable, but healthy as well. Life is all about change and adjustment and advancement, and the moment you stop learning is really the moment you stop living.

Constant. Change.