This morning as I was driving to an interview, the sun was shining through the trees and everything seemed to be sparkling. It was a perfect morning – well, if you don’t consider that it was 70 degrees at 9 AM on March 22. But let’s not quibble. It was gorgeous.
There was a moment when I looked up into the trees and did a double take – were those buds that I was seeing on the trees? And not just little tiny beginnings of buds; they were big, heavy, ready-to-burst buds. I was stymied. Sure, it’s been unusually warm, but this was crazy. Trees should absolutely, definitely not be doing this right now. Not in the mountains of northern New Hampshire. Normally they’d still be under a couple feet of snow.
But as I looked closer, I realized that it wasn’t actually new buds. In fact, they were dead leaves from last fall that had not yet dropped. They’ve been hanging there for so long that they’re thin and delicate like lace. I guess that without the usual storms – wind, heavy snow, ice – there wasn’t enough friction to take down the detritus of the previous season.
Which got me thinking – how often do I hold onto the remnants of last season, rather than shedding it so that I can burst forth into the new season?
And here’s the interesting part – last season, those things were healthy. They were vital. They were completely correct and necessary. I did nothing wrong by having those experiences in the first place.
But as I move into my next season of growth, those thoughts/beliefs/feelings no longer serve me. It’s quite possible that they might inhibit the growth of the next season. Maybe it’s time to let the memories of them go so that I can have new experiences.
Just a thought. Brought to you by the trees.