When in doubt, adapt

I have been derelict in my duty to you and I apologize. Like many of you, my life has been a cascading series of events punctuated by change, indecision, surprise, misadventure, and downright craziness. Not to mention the Republican primaries, which leave me wondering if America will survive the coming year.

When we came to Sisters we hoped it would be our last move. But we are now summoning the courage to put our house on the market once more, and move back to the Portland area. Ray's illness is the primary reason; there are more care options there, and opportunities to participate in research. And of course our family and old friends will be much closer.

As I wrote the above paragraph I found myself wondering if this move is really what I want, and I have no answer. I will certainly hate leaving Sisters and the friends I've made here, but mostly I'll miss the nearby mountains and my walks through the pines, and the sunshine and dry weather—though its snowing as I write this.

Through all our many moves (19 if you count France and Turkey) I have learned to be adaptable, finding something to love in each of our habitats, even when the surroundings were less than lovely. I am not alone in this of course. The world is a shifting mass of humanity, most fleeing war, terror, economic collapse, or other misfortunes. With no other choice they are forced to adapt to new surroundings, a new culture, a new language. In contrast, our moves have generally been our decision, our choice.

Adaptation is a key survival mechanism and the millions of refugees adapting to new surroundings offer proof of that. As we adapt we adopt new ideas, new societal norms; and we share old traditions with our new neighbors. All this is good in the long run, but it isn't easy. Personally, I'm growing tired of the turmoil. I would like the world to rest awhile, to reach a kind of stasis, so we can all plant deep roots; roots that will hold us and our surroundings in place for a time, providing continuity, solace, permanence, and hope.

But I could be wrong. Maybe upset and constant churning is good for us. Maybe adapt is just another way of saying evolve. And maybe our politics will return to normal and our endless wars will cease. One can always hope. And if that fails, adapt.