We had a surprisingly full Easter weekend this year. We rarely go away over this time, choosing rather, to be quiet and slow while we chomp through chocolate and hot cross buns.
“Easter carbs don’t count,” Matthew reminds us as he bites into a butter-full bun.
This year, however, Matthew had filled our days with catch up time with friends. One or two at a time, to tea, lunch or brunch. Our grocery cupboard opened with cinnamon spice and chocolate aromas, and was filled with enough delectable carbs to keep a rugby team going.
As we bounced along a quiet road to complete an errand on Monday morning, Chantal asked Matthew, “How have you found this very different Easter weekend?”
“I think we have honoured the spirit of Easter, which I feel is about connectedness,” he replied. “We have managed to connect with family and friends in an intentional way that acknowledges their connection to us and how we truly enjoy their company and them.”
Connecting and digging deep
Obviously we could not connect with all the people we find dear this weekend. It is tempting to invite everyone that we’ve been wanting to catch up with to a big shindig. But we battle with big crowds, even of friends. We find the energy both overwhelming and too surface. The joy of hosting one or two at a time and digging deep over several hours into what is most important to them, is what we find the most heartening.
And so it was that we gathered around our small pine table on rickety chairs that squeak and moan, and swapped stories about those things that mean the most to us. Stories about sacred contracts and how the universe has a way of getting us to do things we most want to avoid. Stories of hurt and hope. We laughed at the audacity of some brave (or stupid) souls and gasped at the consequences that thoughtlessness bestows on others.
As we hugged and waved our visitors goodbye we felt fuller not only by the delicious food and decadent treats we had consumed but by the conversations and warmth we had drunk in.
A ball of possibilities
Fun of Easter rugby festivals
Speaking of rugby, we spent Saturday afternoon watching school boy rugby at the King Edward VII School (KES) Rugby & Hockey Festival. One of many that compete for family and old-boy attention over the Easter break. Having an old-boy in the family, the KES festival was an easy choice.
We squeezed two sons and us in an Uber and took a once familiar route to the school. Chantal’s son, the KES old-boy, is as unKES-like as you can get. His sport of choice was Taekwondo and he played rugby because hockey used sticks, and his father would have disowned him otherwise. The G team is where he found his groove as the smallest lock in living memory. He felt better for it knowing that Bryan Habana had once played in the same team.
School boy rugby is a delight to watch. It is not free of egoful coaches, but the boys play with the flair and fearlessness of the young (nearly) men they are. As we watched the sparks of talent and glimmer of greatness, we wondered fleetingly if we were witnessing any future Springboks.
Sadly our team, KES, lost to Paarl Boys High, a close contest that showed in the score 10-8. Despite putting on a tremendous defence, as the minutes ticked by, it looked like KES didn’t believe they could win. They absolutely could have, but they made too many errors and gave away too many penalties. As the game drew to a close they lost their verve and will to win.
Our beliefs about what is possible directly impact our ability to perform
Belief changes the game
How often have we given someone more power than they deserve and buckled and bent in their presence? Status, wealth, knowledge, a fancy title, all of which can serve to make one feel smaller in comparison and lesser than too. We let them run away with the ball or pass too soon, for fear of standing up to them. Alternatively we cower invisibly while we smile too much and say too little.
Imagine a world devoid of self doubts that cripple and crunch. Imagine that we could accept ourselves as we are, with all the blemishes, bumps and lack of titles that brings. Imagine that we could believe that we can deliver, even if it is done differently, that intrinsically we are valuable individuals who are collectively better than alone.
Imagine too that we fully and completely believed that the next person can show up and deliver as well. Even if they look too small, too weak, too emotional, too distracted, or too colourful. Imagine a world where we can accept, tolerate, support and cheer on the different, the doers, the dreamers and the dancers. Imagine then that we could move mountains.
Until next time,
Yours in feeling,
Chantal & Matthew
About the author
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