Liz, your recording helped me soak in the wisdom of the passage, and I listened to it many times before entering the circle at Awakin Santa Clara.
Two thoughts came from that soaking and the sit. First, I like to be in a time of wisdom, but if time is a season, that means I must have passed through the opposite season, that of stupidity, to enter into this one. The season analogy seems to work, not just for the past, but also for the future. If I am in a season of wisdom, I must gently advance into the season of stupidity. No two seasons are the same as David Whyte says, and so also my future stupidities are of a different nature than my present ones - and they are direct enablers of future wisdom, that are quite different from my present wisdom. Staying attached to what I know now would make me learning-disabled. In order to continue learning, I have to learn to be vulnerable and be ok with not knowing, making a fool of myself, and enjoy a season of stupidity, so I may then receive a new season of wisdom. I can only hope that it is not the same season of stupidity over and over again :).
Second, I found myself wondering about time itself. While it is true that mechanical time is largely an illusion we have created (one of my teachers always responds to the question "Do you have time?" with "I always have time, the question is what am I going to do with it"), the same teacher once reflected that time is that which prevents everything from happening all at once. It causes separation, and separation allows for experience. Without separation, there can be no experience. And with separation, it becomes possible to experience the joy of unity.
Some people at the circle reflected on the wonder in a child's eyes that reminds us to look differently at each season afresh. I was reminded of my own toddler daughter who is currently in India while I am in the US. When I call her these days, she notices (if I am on video) that it is dark at my end, while it is light at hers, and asks in a squaky voice, "Daddy, is it night time at your home?" I say, "yes." And she says, "Oh, it's day time at grandpa's home." And she giggles. I didn't realize how wondrous this is - two people connected at the same instant of time, and yet, experiencing two very different times!
Thank you, Liz, for everything that you do, and thank you to all the Awakin commenters for the beautiful reflections - I love reading them!