Change is the Only Constant: And Lessons From My Beloved Nature

Back end of Yukness Ledges & Opabin Plateau, Lake O'Hara

If there’s one truth I’ve learned in my 50-plus years on this earth, it’s this: change is the only constant. We may resist it, try to control it, or cling to what we know, but life will always find a way to remind us that change is not just inevitable... it’s necessary.

As a writer, traveler, and nature lover, I often look to the natural world for wisdom. Out on the trails, in the mountains, or beside a quiet lake, I find constant reminders that change is not something to fear but something to embrace.

Alpine or Dwarf Fireweed, Mount Assiniboine

Take the landscapes I’ve hiked through countless times. One morning the alpine meadow is drenched in dew, flowers sparkling like jewels in the first rays of sun. By afternoon, those same blossoms might be wilted from heat, their colours muted under a sky now heavy with cloud. The next day, a sudden rainstorm paints everything fresh and new. Change, in nature, is rapid and relentless and yet, there is comfort in the constants too. The mountain peak remains rooted. The river keeps flowing. The sun still rises and sets.

That balance between change and continuity is what gives me reassurance in my own life. Yes, change is hard. Some changes, like loss, endings, or uncertainty, can shake us to the core. But others bring growth, new opportunities, and joy we never expected. Both are necessary. Without change, there would be no wildflowers in the meadow, no migration of birds, no shifting of the seasons. Without change, there would be no growth in us either.

And right now, my own family is experiencing one of those big shifts. In the past few week, our home has felt quieter, the kind of quiet that tugs at the heart. My oldest, Jordan, has gone off to college in North Carolina. His room, once full of energy and life, now holds a stillness that reminds me daily of how much has changed. For me, the adjustment has been bittersweet. I miss him deeply, yet I know this is the natural flow of life, our children grow, spread their wings, and step into their own journeys.

For Jordan, though, the transition has been much harder. A new college, a new ball team, new teammates and roommates, a new state, and no constant of mom close by. His world has shifted completely. I’ve spent hours talking with him, listening as he navigates the discomfort of all these changes at once. And still, he struggles.

It leaves me asking myself: how do I help best from afar? Do I step in, continuing to smooth the path for him even when I’m miles away? Or do I step back and let him stumble a bit, trusting he’ll find his way? It’s the eternal question of parenting... when to nurture, and when to let go.

Morning sun on a dew drenched trail, Mount Assiniboine

So it's no surprise that I turn to nature, which once again, gives me perspective. Does Mother Nature step in to hold every plant upright, or does she trust the ecosystem she’s created? Sometimes she nurtures through the unseen, the deep roots of the forest connected by mycelium, quietly supporting one another underground. Other times, she allows storms to come, knowing that only through struggle do trees grow stronger roots.

Perhaps my role now is like that of the forest, to stay connected beneath the surface, to offer unseen strength and quiet reassurance, while letting Jordan build the resilience he needs on his own. Change will always come, and he must learn to bend with it, just as I must learn to let him.

My boys and Denali enjoying a little family time at sunset

Nature whispers the same lesson again and again. Trees shed their leaves to prepare for winter. Lakes freeze, then thaw, then teem with life again. Even the ground beneath us shifts over time, shaping mountains and carving valleys. If nature resisted change, nothing would survive.

So I remind myself: instead of fearing change, I can walk with it. Instead of clinging too tightly, I can trust in the strength that already exists.. in me, in Jordan, and in the roots that bind us together no matter the distance.

Change is the only constant, yes. But so too is love, resilience, and the unshakable bond of family.

When I step into the wild, I carry that truth with me: just like the landscapes I love so deeply, we too will continue to change, adapt, and grow.