Skip to main content

Target expectations and experiences

My son went to soccer try-outs today. For me, the soccer try-out signals the start of the soccer season, and of the new year proper.

The first few weeks of the school year are behind us, and my little ones are getting into a routine. 

A rhythm.

It feels like the year is stretching out before me, the commencement of a consistent blur.

The feeling that this year is already lining up like last year. That it is going to be the same. That the time is going to compress.

It feels like the same conversations are already being had.

How was your holidays?

Good, and yours?

Yeah it was good.

The mechanical rote of disengaged answers.

For me, this is a warning sign. 

If I want to look back on a year of amazing experiences, then I need to engage and fine tune my expectations.

If the start is already veering off from the experience destination I want to get to, then now is the time to adjust the course. 

I don't want to sit in the backseat and buy into a year with the expectation that it is going to be the same as last year.

I promised myself that the year that is ahead is going to be exciting.

Different is exciting, and I know that I want something exciting.

I yearn for something more.

And so as I reflect on the season try-out, and the way that I engaged again with faces new and old, I know that I am a part of this.

I was excited to engage with the new season, I realise that it is up to me to bring excitement.

The responsibility to steer the year is mine. 

At the end of the year, no matter the outcome, the year will be past.

Right now I have a unique opportunity. To lead or to follow.

I cannot expect eyes to shine when I show up if I do not bring shining eyes.

I need to bring that which I seek to experience.

Life is a lot like that.

You only get out what you put in.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Handstands

I’m waiting for a coffee on a Saturday morning, standing next to the counter in a suburban shopping centre. Around the corner comes a Mum with three spirited children. The impact of the small family on the shopping centre energy is palpable. The children are full of life, and the mother has her hands full as the little troupe, aged five, four and three, I estimate, engage with everything with energetic gusto. ‘No running’, Mum says to Mr 4, as a four-year-old energetic boy goes tearing past me. Mum turns around to see the three-year-old walking slowly behind. ‘Come on’, she says to Mr 3, coaxing the littlest one to quicken his pace. Distracted from the older members of the troupe for a few short moments, Mum turns around and sees Mr 4 doing a cool breakdance style handstand in the middle of the shopping centre floor. ‘No handstands’, Mum says. She does not see the coolness in Mr 4’s handstand.  Mr 3, however, is visibly impressed and cannot resist the call of acr...
Post a Comment
Read more

Chapter 2

Not again, she thinks to herself. And then the stairwell begins to lose its composition. Damn she says. It's early.  She grips the balustrade, knowing that it's useless. In the realisation, grips harder and closes her eyes.  This, at least, is helpful. The visual experience was harrowing the first time. It still is, but at least this time it is somewhat expected and 'normal'. Remembers the first time, it must have been 3 months ago now. Was sitting at a cafe in her home town, the smell of fresh waffles thick in the morning air, mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Ethiopian, she knows. Pip and Pup was a weird name, but the coffee was to die for. The light has been different, that morning, and she wonders how it might have been different if she had not needed to use the bathroom at Pip and Pups.  She had walked down the passage past the kitchen, and the passage seem to stretch out and bend to the right. Even though she had screamed loud, no one paid any attenti...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ancestors

It's been a long time.  A long time since I thought about him. And today I visited his grave. Actually, its not really his grave. His mother was buried there many years ago, and his ashes were scattered there after his cremation.  His brother thought this was the best place for him to rest . I'm not sure what I expected. Perhaps I thought that this would give me "closure", or a feeling of relief. Perhaps it's been so long, and the emotion and feelings are hidden behind many years.  We drove on long straight deserted roads, through old mining areas and tired looking cattle yards.  We passed across the marks of an old burnout, and drove through Jarrah forests and pine tree plantations.  As we got close to the cemetery, I felt something stirring deep in my belly. The stirring of pain, trauma and emotion long forgotten. The cemetery was a quiet simple clearing setback from the main road and surrounded by virgin bush. Some overgrown bushes covered the path, and I par...
Post a Comment
Read more