Winds of Grass (or Leaves of Change?)

I had a conversation with a friend about how they hate it when a band changes their musical style. How often when you talk about music do you or someone else say, "I only like their old stuff"?

It reminded me of a few bands that have been my favorites through the years and how they've changed. I love the changes, though. It shows that they've lived. They've had experiences... good and bad... that have altered the way they see and feel. Albums that were angry, edgy or careless have become more deep and meaningful. I'd like to think that I've changed, too.

Driving home from work the other day I became distracted by the medians on the freeway. I'll never understand landscapers in Arizona. They have a tendency to kill anything green. There were patches on the median where clearly the civil servants hadn't gotten to with the weed killer yet and I found myself thinking how beautiful it would be if they let the patches of grass grow in, rather than spraying them away.

What is it about being human that makes us so afraid of change? (Of course this was my train of thought while listening to an uncharacteristic Linkin Park song watching weed-filled medians go by. And thus this post was born.) I think what scares me the most is that no change ever comes with a return policy. I want to know beforehand how things will turn out. However, I also realize that nothing good can come if I pull out the Round-Up every time something green sprouts into my dull, brown, familiar world.

Resolution: Learn to welcome changes when they come. Each makes me a more interesting person, brings color into my life and makes my figurative songs mean a little bit more.
(How's that for sappy, eh? And some of you think I'm heartless...)