A dancer, describing her movements between the US, India, and Germany, writes, “I went home. or I came home. Either way, I was in the redwoods by the ocean for three months. I’m not sure which word to use – ‘went’ or ‘came’; whether I am based in India and traveling to California, or vice verse. I feel in flux and constantly confused.”
To be in flux is to be in flow, between solid states. The identity in flux has become liquid, and is free to move into different forms. It’s like bewilderment, linx, or feeling out of sorts, but instead of reacting to the tumult of the outside world, a person in flux is themselves in motion, while the outside world is stable and still.
Flux often begins with loss of social standing and relationships, but with the possibility of a new position and connection with others. It provides an opportunity for transformation for the person who experiences it, though there are no guarantees. The chaotic surging of turmoil is one possibility, but flux can also be experienced as a serene and calm flow in smooth transit.
Flux is the consequence of an unbecoming, on the way to a new becoming, but not yet there. It is a condition of potential unrealized, its power in its uncertainty.
