When I think back to a time of great change and growth in my life, it came purposefully, like planning for and planting seeds for a spring garden.
I moved to Avignon, France, in early 2002. I took this trip to study abroad. I wanted to stretch myself to grow in another culture, to experience life from outside of what I took for granted and knew.
My real reason was to challenge myself to live outside the safety and comfort of home and a relationship I loved as much as life but that was dying on the vine.
In Avignon, I photographed the seasonal changes outside my floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the neighbor’s triplex, and between us, a massive gnarled-looking tree.
In the cold of February, when the Mistral winds swept down the street with diagonal, blinding rain, the branches of what became my living calendar, were bare, gray, unbending. They matched the way I felt about this new place I’d call home for three months. Doors and windows were closed to the cold, as was my heart. People dashed with their heads bowed to the wind. No warmth of human kindness or sunlight met my eyes. It was dreary, as winter often meets us.
Within a matter of days, things began to change. I made my way around the tiny city. I got lost less often and before long, didn’t need a map to find my way back to my apartment. Faces became familiar too. I made new friends and looked forward to knowing more about them. My curiosity and eagerness to learn and grow were budding like the new spring green on the gnarled tree. With each changing day, I became more open to my surroundings.
It was good for me to be alone. I took time to look inside of who I was and who I wanted to be.
My return to the United States brought a strong desire to continue this kind of inner growth and development. That is what led me to coach training in 2003.
Recently, when walking back home in Minnesota, I noticed short sprouts of new grass poking up along the trail. I was reminded of the final photograph I took outside my window in Avignon, on May 1. The buds had opened into scented pink and white flowers that shed falling petals when the wind blew. I could hardly see the triplex hidden behind the blossoms. Everything around and in me was new, fresh, and showing the beauty of new growth and healing.
As I turn the pages of my paper calendar this year, I am thinking about the living calendar our lives reveal. I ask myself, and you, what season are you living in? What growth would you like to see? How will you choose to measure your changes? Who are you becoming? What do you want others to get from knowing you? What will you leave behind?
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