Unnoticed Resources

One of my favorite exercises when working with teams involves a can of Tinkertoys. At the end of the activity, in which each team has been given a can of these wooden toys with which to complete an assigned task, we debrief the lessons learned. While there are many that come out of it, my favorite is the discovery of unnoticed resources that are close at hand but rarely used. Resources that are so close and so familiar that we lose sight of their value. This insight certainly applies to the workplace, but it applies everywhere else as well.

One such resource is right outside our door back door, and it is our gravel road. The obvious purpose of the road is access to and from our home. But that ordinary gravel road has so much more hidden value than merely a way to come and go.

On that gravel road, new friendships have been born and old ones renewed.On that gravel road, old wounds have been uncovered so that reconciliation could occur.

On that gravel road, many a writer’s block has been removed.

On that gravel road, thoughts are cleared, problems resolved, questions answered, and the frustration of a Seahawks loss fades away (almost).

On that gravel road, thresholds have been crossed and lives changed. (Hello BLUSH: Women & Wine-page 6)

On that gravel road, a dog takes her humans for a daily walk.

On that gravel road, the courage is found to ask for help.

On that gravel road, it becomes safe to have courageous conversations and to ponder scary questions.

On that gravel road, bodies are moved, hearts are strengthened, and lungs are filled with clear, mountain air.

And, on that gravel road, marriages are strengthened, children loved, babies held, and life is shared.

If an ordinary gravel road, right outside our door can provide so much value, how many other unnoticed resources are close at hand just waiting to be discovered?

Something Afoot Just Beyond Our Sight

This morning, Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle and I were out for our normal morning walk, but somehow it didn’t feel like a normal morning. Rather than wander about and explore as she usually does, she stayed close, stopping often to peer out into the woods as if sensing that something, or someone, was afoot, just beyond our sight.

Partway down the road I stopped and turned around, the sky above the hills behind our home ablaze with color. Gold, pink, orange, and crimson. Reaching for my phone to capture the image, probably for use in a blog, I was disappointed to realize that I had left it at home.

In that moment it was as if whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, invited us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment.

Time stopped. The mental chatter silenced, and the sounds of cars on the road faded away. It was just a girl and her dog on the road. Gracie quietly sat down and together we weren’t watching life, we were life. The calls of two ravens caused us both to turn around just in time to see them emerge from the pines, leisurely making their way to the grove of cottonwood trees just beyond the fence. Landing on the highest branch they talked to one another as ravens do, taking turns, not talking over one another as humans often do. Just beyond the cottonwoods the morning sun was hitting the flanks of Mt. Adams, the light beating back the darkness, as given time, the light will always do.

The ravens flew off, still deep in conversation. Gracie and I watched until they disappeared from sight beyond the pine trees. Turning to head back to the house, the sky that had just minutes before been bright with color was now just so many shades of gray.

The moment was over.

Walking back to the house I wondered how often whatever it was, and it was something, that was afoot in the woods and just beyond our sight, is beckoning us to stop observing the moment and actually be in the moment. To stop watching life and be life. My hunch is, whatever it is, and it is something, is there all the time.

(NO PHOTO FOR OBVIOUS REASONS)

Walking The Refuge

We took the dogs and headed out to the Conboy Wildlife Refuge. It was cold, and sunny, and the contrast of the brilliant yellow-gold tamarack trees with their nearby neighbors, the lodgepole and ponderosa pines could not be more stark.

Once on the three-mile loop trail, we talked about things big and small as the dogs raced ahead, always coming back to check on us. From the viewing platform at the half-way point, it was obvious that fall was giving way to the coming winter, which in turn could only mean the eventual coming of spring and the appearance of new growth. New growth that is only made possible by the death and dropping away of this year’s growth.

Walking the refuge loop trail is always a reminder that life is a series of new beginnings, leading to eventual endings, only to come upon new beginnings once again. It is also a reminder of the need we have as human beings to find refuge from our personal storms with a select few sacred souls. Those who will walk with us as what has been drops away in order to make way for what can be.

Discouragement

One of my least favorite emotions, and yet like all of the ones we’d rather not experience, discouragement has something to say. It sets in when something rears its head again, or when we think we’ve gotten to the root of something and come to find out that we haven’t. At this point it feels like it would be easier to just throw in the towel, forget whatever the issue is, or give up rather than keep going. But this gray sense of disappointment, whether in ourselves, others, or both, is an invitation to look deeper.

Discouragement tells us that what’s been done isn’t what needs to be done. Our work is to figure out what that is.

Discouragement suggests that there are stones yet unturned, paths not yet taken, or viewpoints not yet seen. Our work is to turn over new rocks, embark on the new trail, or look through a different lens.

Left to its own devices, discouragement can lead to a loss of confidence and enthusiasm, leaving us downhearted and demoralized. So rather than leave it to its sorry little self, it is better to grab it by the hand and walk with it until a next right step appears, which if we stick with it, it almost always does. And that’s encouraging.