Just as flowing water can slowly reshape the hardest rock, the things we repeatedly cling to can quietly reshape our character.
Recently, I posted a reflection on social media about how my spiritual practices had made me more at ease and content. An aunt saw it and left this comment: “Vegetarian, no alcohol, no coffee, meditation… I feel you are entering a world that’s very far away from me. I am still living in the anxiety of where my son should do his volunteering work, what major he should choose, and how can he be accepted by a great university.”
I stared at her comment for a few moments.
This was the same woman who once crossed Asia with nothing but a backpack and a paper map, she had trusted strangers, gotten lost in unfamiliar countries, and chosen uncertainty again and again. When I was young, I always stood in front of her photo wall for long times, looked at all the details in those travel pictures, imagined what kind of adventure she took to get there, admired that big smile on her face, and secretly wished to become someone like her.
Today, this same aunt is terrified of uncertainty.
I couldn’t help but wonder — what happened?
Somewhere along the way, uncertainty stopped bringing excitement, and started feeling like danger — something that needs to be removed.
I witnessed something similar in my own parents — since I can remember, everything they do is to remove risks from my life in search for greater certainty:
They worked hard to provide a safe, comfortable environment.
They never asked me to do any chores, nor gave me any responsibility other than study (even today, when I visit home, I’m treated like a kid, they won’t let me wash dishes or drive).
Years after years, they did this out of love.
They weren’t trying to control my life.
They were trying to protect it.
And that love itself created a pattern in them.
32 years later, I have established a good life myself, married my soul mate, and built a great supporting network.
By now, you would think they could finally rest.
It didn’t happen.
The pattern became so deep, that they simply cannot reverse it. In fact, it has changed form and became a strong source of anxiety.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder whether years of trying to protect me from uncertainty also strengthened their own fear of uncertainty.
I fell again and again in the same trap too.
With my career, I became attached to “the safe path”.
With my new business, I became attached to succeeding.
With my meditation practice, I became attached to progress.
The same tendency resides in me, just like my aunt, just like my parents.
But years of reflection helped me notice it — through long hours sitting with myself, through journaling, through meditation, through yoga asanas.
Surprisingly, by simply noticing, I’m able to slowly detach.
My thought came back to the comment, my heart ached.
I suddenly missed the women in those photos. I wondered whether she thinks about that version of herself sometimes too.