Welcome the breathtaking work of change within you

There is a village on the banks of the Hudson River, just outside New York City—the city that never sleeps.

During the day, this village glistens with views of waves and water. At night, the main street awakens with restaurants and pubs lit up like twinkling fireflies.

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I have stories rooted in this village.   

I went to college in this village and still hold my fair share of traumatic memories in this village. My dream was to get away from this village and go somewhere far away from New York, somewhere like Oklahoma to that university plastered across the pamphlets I kept sprawled across my teenage bedroom floor.

In my last year of high school, I sat nervous and fidgety in my guidance counselor’s office. To this day, I can still see her face framed with long, curly hair and her gentle eyes that would pierce into mine. I’d told her I wanted to go away for college so I could get away, go see someplace new and become someone different.

“That sounds great,” she said. “But did you know there’s a college nearby that sounds like it has just what you’re looking for?”

I told her I was happy with my plan.   

But, out of respect for her, I told her I’d visit this nearby college at the next orientation. Wouldn’t you know, from the very moment I stepped on campus, suddenly every dream I had about going away for college fell dim, disappearing into thin air like they never existed before. It was at that moment that I chose this college, overlooking the same village and river I’d glossed over many countless times in my childhood and youth.

I fell in love with that village for all new reasons. The familiarity of its back roads. The pizza place down the way. The proximity to New York City. The history of its becoming. It was like seeing it for the very first time. A proverbial homecoming—not the village that changed, but the change that was in me. A change that opened my heart to see the beauty that was always there, but that I’d never seen.

Oftentimes, we go on our hands and knees in search of change and novelty, when really all we need to do is to look around and see we’re already surrounded by, and even filled with, all we need and long for.

This season, may you welcome new rhythms.  

May you open new doors and, perhaps, a few old ones. May you center your heart to welcome change. Not simply that of the shifting seasons, but deep down where impulse meets invitation—to listen, to linger, to return and to reconsider.

More than looking to the falling leaves and cooler weather, more than hoping for the holidays, look to the growing softness of your own heart. Look to the places in your life where change is already at work. Look to your home, your garden, your schedule and your journal.

You do not need a new town, a new day, or a new season to usher in the kind of change that stills your soul to see all that you already are. There’s no need to chase something or escape someplace in order to be made new.

Right here and right now, may you welcome the breathtaking work of change within you.

Rachel Marie Kang is the author of "Let There Be Art" and "The Matter of Little Losses." She writes in poignant prose on themes of culture, art and faith. Rachel lives in the New York metro with her husband and two sons. Find her work and words at rachelmariekang.com.