Right before I left to go to college, my Dad offered me an analogy. He said that, son, up until this point in your life, you've been like a tree planted in a pot. You've certainly been growing; progressing from a seed to a sprout to a strong young sapling. At this point, however, it is time for a bigger pot. And that was college. A bigger pot.
The bubble of Charlottesville was certainly big and scary at the beginning. Initially I would look back to high school and think about how comfortable it was. About how many friends I had there. How I missed it. There were so many people at college. And the classes were so hard. And I wasn't nearly as special as I used to be. There were people who would work harder, get better grades, and, dare I say it, even play frisbee better than I ever could. I don't fit in here, I thought. I'm nobody here.
But it took time. It took time for my roots to grow. It took time to learn how to play frisbee and how to get good grades and how to learn. It took time to make good friends. It took time for Charlottesville to shrink. I now look back at quaint, little ol' Charlottesville filled with love and stained with longing. Such are transitions, are they not?
Learning to grow can be so difficult some times. I suppose that's the nature of growing. If it weren't difficult, we would continually grow, regardless of space, proper air, or ample water and sunlight. But, as it is, we need these conditions, these finely tuned surroundings in order to grow. In order to become blooming magnolia trees of Charlottesville or staunch junipers of Tibet.
(to be continued soon...)
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