What Hasn't Changed?
Looking at what hasn’t changed can ground us when life is chaotic and unpredictable.
In my weekly writing classes, a prompt I give repeatedly, especially in times of immense disruption and change—or whenever fear and anxiety are running high—is a simple question: “What hasn’t changed?”
This prompt can be an effective antidote to panic because it helps pull our minds back from spinning off in worry and despair over all the things we can’t control. Instead, it helps us focus on small things we can control (like cooking the same pot of oatmeal for breakfast every morning) and also on large things, grander and more long-lasting that the chaos swirling around us (things like the ocean, a mountaintop, the Redwood forest).
I often turn to this prompt myself—and usually feel better when I do.
Here’s a version I wrote:
What Hasn’t Changed
The waves, foamy, crashing, sliding, breaking, cresting, falling, rising, surfing. My excitement at the first rain of the season. Lying in bed at first light, before first light, hearing the soft sounds of water on earth. Immediately thinking about my tall flowered rubber rain boots that have been sitting on the back porch for months gathering cobwebs. Where’s my rain hat? My raincoat? Half an hour later, after wiping out the cobwebs with a paper towel, putting on my dog treat belt and grabbing a leash, I’m tromping through giant puddles in the rain with Luna behind the Simpkins Swim Center, delighted by the water dripping down on me through the trees. My favorite local walk hasn’t changed.
What hasn’t changed? My students’ lighting up my Zoom screen. The broken toilet that requires us to pour in half a bucket of water that comes from the sink that won’t stop dripping. It’s a perfect symbiotic relationship between the dripping sink and the toilet tank that won’t fill. We’ve been waiting for our plumber for more than a week. That hasn’t changed. Luna grabbing random socks left unprotected by unsuspecting guests who don’t realize that in our house, socks and napkins must be safeguarded and vigilance is necessary.
What hasn’t changed? How much I love sipping carrot juice in a hot steamy bathtub late at night. The way I keep my laptop on my bed while I sleep. Incorrigible. The way I like my tea in the morning and the satisfaction of that first perfect sip.
What hasn’t changed? My friends. Preparing to visit my brother who I have happily made peace with. The neuropathy on the bottom of my feet and my non-existent sense of smell—both thanks to Covid. The artwork on our walls and how much pleasure art gives me. The joy of touching mahjong tiles and building mahjong walls and looking for the right kong or pung or quint or singles and pairs hand to call out, “Mahjong!”
What hasn’t changed? Racism. Sexism. Misogyny. Homophobia. Transphobia. Hatred. It’s always been there. Now there’s just complete permission to publicly celebrate its power.
What hasn’t changed? How I like to wear the same clothes day after day after day because it’s easy and they’re comfortable. How much I love looking at the bracelets on my wrists from my travels because they remind of places far away. They remind me of the blessing ceremony in Bali, my hike on the Camino de Santiago, and the ten day visit I had with my daughter in Egypt.
What hasn’t changed? My parents are still dead. My children all still live thousands of miles away. I am still getting older. My memory is still a liability rather than an asset. I still have to take the dog out every day.
What hasn’t changed? The pleasure of cooking onions and garlic in a pan. The delicious taste of creamy polenta topped with sausage, onions, mushrooms, peppers and pesto.
The sound of the gong as I bring people together to write.
What hasn’t changed? The joy in walking on the earth, moving at the speed of my feet. The pleasure I feel while swimming, light streaming through the water, arms and legs in synchronized motion. What hasn’t changed? Seeing with artist’s eyes, something I learned while hiking the Camino de Santiago that I now practice at home with my camera whenever I can.
What hasn’t changed? That I am beloved. That the earth is beloved. That you are beloved. That we are fallible humans struggling on a planet. That we are all born and we will all die. That no matter how bad things seem, we don’t know the end of the story. Our own story. Our national story. Our human story. The world’s story.
What hasn’t changed? Beauty. Awe. Gratitude. Love.
Now it’s your turn. Pull out your notebooks. You can also use this prompt for discussion, meditation or conversation with a friend.
PROMPT: What hasn’t changed? Use this as a repeating line as I did in the example above. Write for at least fifteen minutes, responding in as many ways as you can.
As always, I invite you to share your thoughts or excerpts from your writing in the comments.
And remember, every time you click the heart, leave a comment or share a post, you’re making it easier for new readers to discover The Writer’s Journey.
WRITE WITH LAURA
The work of my heart is to teach.
These are the writing workshops and retreats I’ve got coming up:
In person:
The Healing Heart of Bali: A Writer's Journey of Renewal for Body, Mind and Spirit. Learn about Balinese spirituality and healing and explore the back roads of Bali in three beautiful locations. A remarkable, life-changing journey. August 10-25. Two spots left.
Flourishing as We Age: A Writing Retreat for Women at a beautiful oceanfront retreat center in Santa Cruz, California. Using story, deep listening, and ritual, learn to welcome change, build resilience and hold grief and gratitude simultaneously.
I led the 2025 retreat last week. It was glorious and transformative, and I’ve just booked the dates for next year: June 1-7, 2026. Registration is open now.
Online on Zoom:
Weekly Writing Practice Class: This Wednesday class has met weekly for 25 years. We meet on Zoom, write to prompts and share intimately in a sacred circle. You can attend from anywhere. Openings now.
Weekly Feedback Classes: My Thursday Zoom feedback classes are for those already working on a long-term narrative writing project who are looking for a master teacher and a supportive group of peers to support them in their goals, critique their work, and hold their feet to the fire--with love.
How To Get the Most Out of Writing Prompts:
If you’re new to my Substack, here’s my advice for how to mine the deepest material in your writing:
Thank you for this, Laura. Great timing for this prompt. I love the images, flowered rainboots and carrot juice in the bath! The scent of cooking onions - so distinct. Dog walks too. So many delightful things to notice.
I found my mind spiraling down the neg-a-sphere, my word for all the bad things in the world that are making me crazy right now. Learning to notice the downward spiral of my thoughts is only a step; the next step is to ask: What's here right now? This morning, the view of the hills opened up, sun-warmed and textured with layers of green only seen at this time of year. Closer in, I'm captivated by trunks of trees, spiraling upward, intertwined like dancers holding an ever-reaching moment toward joy, and another tree, its branches stretched outward with an invitation: Look, come see all the beauty here. We have not changed! We are here! The long views of green rolling hills and the sturdy, reaching trees reminding me the sunlight and beauty of today will be enough for now.
Love this practice, Laura, and your compilation of what hasn't changed for you is so poetic!
Another grounding practice I like to use as an antidote to disruption, fear and panic is to ask: "What are you grateful for?" And then I write about those things. But I'm going to try this practice too!