the times they are a-changin'

I've never been much of a Bob Dylan fan.  I know, go ahead and de-friend me now.  I was re-reading The Help for the umpteenth time, and Skeeter talks about hearing 'The times they are a-changin' on the radio.  Since I'd never taken the time to listen to this song, I dialed up our friend youtube. 
Now I won't say that I'm a convert to the cult of Bob Dylan.  I'll still take James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, Simon & Garfunkel, and even Neil Young (although Jimmy Fallon doing his Neil Young impersonation is almost as good as the real thing) from time to time, over the raspy songster.  But ole Bob was on to something.  I keep re-reading the first verse.  

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Part of keeping sane in this bonkers career involves accepting that you will miss certain holidays with the ones you love, you might not be at home for your anniversary/birthday, you will not always sleep in your own bed, and you may have to cope with illness (yours or someone else's) in a foreign language.  You have to readjust your expectations so you're not surprised or disappointed beyond coping at every turn.  I don't know if this is also what it means to be an adult, but it feels like I'm going through a growth spurt.  In the last six months, my husband lost his job, was hired at one that wasn't supposed to be permanent, and now it's becoming permanent.  We're moving to be closer to said job.  I was supposed to spend the winter at home, puttering away at my part-time day job, learning one new role in plenty of time, and sleeping in my bed in my house.  None of that happened.  Instead, I jumped into two productions - one at a pretty major house in the States, another in France, both on short notice.  I'm leaving my tidy part-time job, leaving behind the few students I had left, which means, as of some time next month, singing is the only thing I do for a living.  I have to go breathe into a paper bag now.  

I don't do short notice.  I don't really do surprises.  I really don't do change.  And more than that, I don't do short notice, surprises, and change, all at once, in the span of 6 months, but here we are.
How do we learn to trust that this wave isn't going to take us under?  How do we muster enough courage to soldier forward on this unknown path?  This is where Bob and the smart comes in.
Those two major a-words (no, not THOSE a-words): "admit" and "accept."  You have to admit that change is coming, it's coming at you, and if you try to turn your back or bury your head in the sand you will be SO screwed.   You have to accept that life is not going to go back to the way it was, no matter how much you squeeze your eyes shut and wish for it to be so.  But that new life, the one that's waiting for you just beyond all of the insanity, it might just be the next stage of something wonderful.  At least, that's what I'm hoping. 

And in more familiar territory.  "Honey, time marches on and eventually you realize it is marchin' across your face."

I'm gonna apply a second coat of night cream and pull the shades over my eyes.  The times are changing, with or without my consent.  I may as well rest up.