When we find ourselves stuck in a rut, our instinct is usually to search for a quick fix. Yet finding a way out can often feel like a bigger problem than the one that got us in.
While the path forward can seem complicated, our real struggle often comes from the weight of an accumulated past, commonly referred to as baggage.
We want the old story of what was to end and the new one to begin, and the advice we’re usually given is to simply “live in the now” and forget whatever came before.
Easier said than done, I’d say, and it’s rarely, if ever, a one-step process, as it wasn’t just one step that got us here in the first place.
Before COVID, I had the opportunity to work with MLSE (Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment), connecting with their management and staff, and a few players, too. It was an exciting chapter for me, and catching up with an old friend from that time reminded me of a subtle but powerful lesson I learned there.
While attending their fiscal launch, I spoke with people at every level of the organization, genuinely curious about their career path to such a unique organization and how long they had been there.
And it didn’t take long for a distinct pattern to emerge from my second question.
“I’ve been with MLSE for six seasons.“
“I’m in my tenth season now.”
“This is my first season!”
They responded in seasons, and not years.
While that language naturally comes with the territory of working for a sports franchise, their language conveyed a different orientation toward time. I felt no baggage in their answer.
Last year was over. Whatever had happened, their attention had almost effortlessly shifted to what lay ahead. It was particularly interesting given that, at that time, it had been 50 years since their flagship team, the Maple Leafs, had won a championship. It’s almost 60 now.
Imagine what might happen if we all began breaking down the heavy, monotonous rhythm of our years into a more digestible string of seasons.
“My partner and I are in our tenth season together. Last season was challenging, and we definitely had to make some adjustments to our defence; however, we’re good now and excited to put those changes into play and see how this season unfolds!”
Sounds better than “We’ve been married ten years”, doesn’t it?
Albert Camus once wrote, “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”
Was he being optimistic, a hopeless romantic, or was he simply delusional?
It really depends on who you ask.
What we call reality is often the story we construct around a series of choices and outcomes. The events themselves don’t change, but the meaning we give them can.
And whatever our conclusion, it’s not a lie if we believe it.
I think it’s also important to note that we are not only the ones who experience the seasons of our lives; we are also the seasoning itself.
Some of us bring the spice while others bring the sweet. Some provide a bold, unmistakable zest to life, and others a more subtle array of flavours.
And then there are a precious few who, like a bay leaf, you’re not always sure why they’re there or what they’re doing, but the sauce isn’t the same without them.
For almost 60 seasons, I have definitely felt at times like I was too much for some, not nearly enough for others and just right for a select few. I have seen players come and go, and some even returned, as very different players in a very different season.
LI’ve logged some wins this season and some losses, too. I’ve felt some hurts, and I’ve also delivered a few, unfortunately. I would imagine the same holds true for you.
My hope is that, on this day of remembrance, we can all take a moment to accept and understand, as best we can, what has transpired in the previous seasons of not only our own lives but also those of our collective humanity, as well. To be honest about the choices we made and the ones we didn’t, so we can enter this next season together feeling a little lighter, hopefully a little wiser, and better able to make choices going forward that are aligned with the future we seek.
