The Lotus and the blueprint of change

For years, the small pond with its blooming lotus flowers and darting little fish was my quiet sanctuary. Each morning, as I stood by its edge, tea in hand, I would watch life unfold, a tableau of movement and stillness, resilience and grace. The lotus, undeterred by the murky waters, would bloom effortlessly, while the fish swam with boundless energy, as if greeting the day with the same enthusiasm I hoped to carry into my work. It was a ritual, a grounding moment before the demands of the day took over.

But soon, the pond and the building it sits beside will no longer exist. As part of an infrastructure expansion on our campus, this structure, one of the oldest still standing, will make way for a new, modern facility. The lotus will no longer bloom here. The fish will move on.

As said in different expressions, change is a constant companion. Strategies evolve, narratives shift, audiences transform. Yet, no matter how familiar we are with change, it always carries a measure of discomfort. The demolition of a place that held so much emotional significance is a reminder that growth often comes at the cost of letting go. Nostalgia, though beautiful, cannot be an anchor. It must instead serve as a bridge to what was, to what is, and to what can be.

Philosophers and artists have long explored the nature of impermanence. The Japanese concept of mono no aware, the deep, melancholic appreciation of transience reminds us that beauty is often heightened by its fleeting nature. The lotus, a symbol of enlightenment in many traditions, is revered not because it remains unchanged, but because it thrives despite transformation. In art, the act of painting over an old canvas is not an erasure but a reinvention. Change, in that sense, is not destruction it is evolution.

I see a parallel in how organizations grow. Just as structures must adapt to accommodate expanding needs, so too must our narratives and strategies. We cannot cling to past frameworks when the future demands a new architecture. And yet, while the physical space may change, the essence of what made it meaningful remains in memory, in culture, and in the promise of what’s to come.

When I will stand in front of the new building that will replace this old structure, I will not see a loss, but a transformation. And perhaps, somewhere on this campus, another pond will form, another lotus will bloom, and another early morning ritual will begin. Because change, however inconvenient or painful, is the blueprint of progress.

#Change #Growth #Transformation