Seasons

The judges’ faces mirrored his own, right down to the tears that rolled down their cheeks. His eyes crinkled. The corners of his mouth turned upwards. His exclamations were utterances of joy. Delight was written all over his face. He had just been given four yeses. This was the stepping stone for further opportunities and big dreams, yet by the look on the face of this young contestant, it didn’t matter. He was living in the moment, taking it all in and loving it. Now was what mattered. This very moment. He had just passionately cha cha’ed his way into the heart of all who had seen him perform.

It was the second such moment of passionate presence I’d seen on the same show and the third this week. The other two; a young magician who told his own tearjerking story through captivating illusions and an eclipse enthusiast who excitedly explained what she’d travelled half way around the world to see. In all three cases their excitement and presence was palpable. It was so tangible, you could almost reach out and touch it.

On the other side of the coin:

“It sounds like you have the couldn’t be bother-eds,” she said.

“Nailed it!” I thought.

That was, and to an extent is exactly how I’m still feeling since I’ve returned home. I can’t seem to settle on any one thing, everything seems to be too much effort and some of the things that once lit me up just aren’t. It’s like being an unanchored ship or one without a sail. My mind’s wandering off into the past and the future and is far from being attuned to each moment. And it’s ok. As I continue to wrestle with and come to terms with the vast cultural and socioeconomic differences I’ve experienced, it will change. Change is inevitable.

Despite the change in temperatures, the fact that it is mid-April and consequently halfway through autumn, many of the leaves of the deciduous trees here in town are holding steadfast. Some are slowly giving way from their bright green coats to rusty red and fireside orange. They’ve only had random patches of their hair dyed. They are out there making a statement and expressing their individuality in the bold way they know how.

The season is changing. That change is slow. The leaves will fall, winter will come and the trees will stand leafless for a time. They are no less a tree, they just look different. There are of course, those trees that hold onto their leaves all winter too. Their growth is limited because they too are in a different season. And there are those trees that do grow and thrive not despite of the weather but because of it. It is their optimum time for growth. Again, no less of a tree just one going through a different season.

I’m not so foolish to think that the man passionately cha cha’ing his way into the hearts of the nation, the spellbinding magician or the exuberant eclipse chaser always have seasons of unbridled passion. I (and thousands, perhaps millions of viewers) have been privileged to witness it. To witness others in their glory, their excitement and their vulnerability, because let’s face it, they were all being incredibly vulnerable, is an honour and a privilege. They are champions of encouragement, motivation and change and we all need that. I’ve needed that this week.

It is through reflecting on these moments of complete strangers, who I’m never likely to meet, that I’ve been encouraged and reminded that this time of ‘couldn’t be bothered-ness’ is but a season. It is needed for reflection and growth and it’s completely normal. It will pass. It is a season. And there is a time for every season under heaven.