I've worn out another cover on the corn bag I use nearly every day, as heat on a stiff back in the morning and like a hot water bottle to warm my feet in bed at night. I can't find when I switched out the original bag but I thought it advantageous to choose a dark fabric that was a little heavier. Alas, that one has worn through too plus the black background to the delicate art deco roses transferred pigment when heated. Never occurred to me that would happen, but it showed up brown on my sheets and where it rubbed against the back of light-colored tops. So this time I went light, a jungle print from probably the 1980's made to look a bit like a batik with the black crackling. I had a dress made from this once, halter style on top, multi-gored skirt on the bottom, buttons down the front a bit like a shirt dress. It was a favorite summer dress with its long sweeping skirt and open back, not to mention that jungle print. Because the fabric was 100 percent cotton, the leftovers after I made it went into my quilting stash. And now into my corn bag to make me smile. A change I didn't mind making.
I generally avoid change. I've been doing work to understand why that is and to be more open to change, to see the positive and potential of change, not just the negative and disruptive nature of it. Because some change is hard, even when we see the need. So I took note of this quotation from Nick Cave; I think he understands my aversion to change quite well and has something interesting to say about it.
“Most of us don’t want to change, really. And why should we? What we do want is modifications on the original model. We keep on being ourselves, but just, hopefully better versions of ourselves. But what happens when an event occurs that is so catastrophic that you just change? You change from the known person to an unknown person? So that when you look at yourself in the mirror, you recognize the person you were, but the person inside the skin is a different person.”
I've been through the sort of catastrophic event he speaks of and it indeed did change me, literally never to be the same. I know my public face must belie all this as a general rule, not many aware of that different person inside the skin. There's still an unchanged essence of me at the core, but much shifted after that event, the world and my existence seen from a different perspective, and a forcing to make those modifications Nick speaks of to become a better version.
Just like my humble corn bag with its new cover, a better version forced by the wearing of a hole in the old that allowed the innards to start seeping out. I look at it and see both previous versions that surrounded the unchanging corn at the center and know the current one is the best version yet. But it too will need replacing some day, I'm sure. Not a catastrophic event in the grand scheme of things, but a gentle reminder that most things don't last forever, enjoy them while they do, and stay open to the delights of change.