Everything will change

A story where seashells, humans, and telescopes come together.

This story begins with a shell. 

Your mind is probably already conjuring images of the kind you find speckled across beaches, but I’m actually referring to emerging movie star Marcel the Shell. Don’t know him? Run, don't walk to a movie theater near you. It’s worth every minute and every cent (I promise).  

A little background: Marcel’s been gracing movie screens for the past few months now, captivating unassuming audiences with his casual humor and surprising poignancy. Filmed in the style of a documentary, we follow Marcel as he explores “the human yearning for connection” (perfectly worded by TIME Magazine) and tries to reunite with the lost members of his family. 

Walking into the theater with my best friend one day in early August, I didn’t expect to emerge with (1) a tear-stained face, (2) a newfound appreciation for shells and, (3) a burning desire to write about this quote:

“But what if everything changes again?” Marcel asks tearfully.

“Marcello,” Nana Connie responds gently. “It will.”

I recently published a new prose poem centered around simplicity in acts of love and care — how one experience, one action, one word can break a heart with its beauty. When I was met with this seemingly simple exchange between Marcel and Connie, something in me shifted.

How many times have we asked ourselves or others Marcel’s question, fear searing our bodies? How many times have we glared at our fear with contempt, willing ourselves to grow up and be an adult about it? We would do anything to resist the compassionate, unwavering truth Connie responds with. 

And for good reason. As much as we’ve all heard the adage “change is the only constant in life,” it always arrives with either a splash or a flood of destabilization. This past year, I’ve experienced what feels like an unending succession of life changes on every front — personal, professional, relational, you name it.

I stood at the crossroads of comfort and change, wanting both, like us all. I let comfort envelop me, keeping me warm and safe until the next change inevitably arrived. I tentatively crossed over to change just to run back into comfort’s waiting arms. I pried my fingers away from comfort and walked, slowly, to change again. To my surprise, change held my hand as I walked. It still does.

Accepting uncertainty and embracing waves of instability was never easy for my anxiety-ridden self, but some small epiphanies along the way have eased the transition. One of these realizations is tied to the societal scale we use to weigh life changes against each other — it spans from small, seemingly inconsequential changes to monumental, mind and life-altering changes. Small changes warrant small reactions. Big changes warrant big reactions. But do they always have to?

While there’s more at stake with big changes, whether it be losing a job or a long-term relationship, it all falls into the same ocean of change. We tend to see changes as irregular shifts in a mostly monotonous life, but they’re actually always occurring, even at granular levels. Your favorite barista finds a different job, the cat you always see finds a different neighborhood to roam, Trader Joe’s stops stocking their immaculate cocoa batons (I don’t want to win the lottery, I just want a lifetime supply of these). 

All this to say, changes are changes. Even small shifts will alter the pace of your day, maybe even your month. But you feel equipped to handle the small changes, because you know life goes on. If we applied the same mindset to big changes, we might start noticing ourselves embracing uncertainty more often. You might rise, you might flounder, you might fall, but you’re still moving. You’re always still moving. And something new is always waiting for you.

Something I recently learned in reference to anxiety-fueled thought spirals is that we often become obsessed with the content of the thought, instead of looking at the larger picture: it’s all the same old anxiety. We can apply the same awareness here — whichever category the change falls into doesn’t need to define the story. See it for what it is: a natural progression of life that is here to incite growth. 

I’ve never been very good with beginnings or endings, so I’ll end on somewhat of a cliché here. There are changes we face that seemingly ask us to abandon everything, be it the spiritual, mental or physical comforts we’re familiar with. We understand what’s being asked of us, but we aren’t ready to let go of all of it. Maybe we don’t have to. Maybe life is merely asking for a change in perspective using all the resources within our reach.

Our minds are telescopes looking out at a vast world of possibilities. We only need to shift the angle.

And if everything changes? Know that it will.

It will, and it will, and it will. 

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Edit: Someone at my local Trader Joe’s definitely heard my prayers…