Elder + Connector + Writer
The good news is that we have arrived to this day carrying all of our stories with us.
The bad news is that we have arrived to this day carrying all of our stories with us.
The good news is that we can choose to set down the stories that no longer serve us.
The bad news is that we don’t always do that.
The good news is that we can choose to write new stories.
The bad news is that we don’t always do that.
The good news is that we get to choose what kind of news we want.
Stark contrasts are visible in our little valley this summer. Out in front of our home, the once green field is quickly being devoured by the massive infestation of grasshoppers. Our lawn is barely a memory, and there is no sign that the grasshoppers are leaving anytime soon. They weren’t here last year, and they may not be here next year, but one thing is for certain, they are here now. But drive down our road and hang a left on Mt. Adams Hwy, and there are fields of daisies on either side of the road. A riot of color, it’s hard to miss them, and there is no sign that they are leaving anytime soon. They weren’t here last year, and they may not be here next year, but one thing is for certain, they are here now.
We encounter both of these vastly different views every single day, and it is tempting to only focus on one or the other. Pretend the grasshoppers don’t exist and fix our gaze on the daisies, or fixate on the dead and dying grass and forget to take in the white petals and yellow-as-the-sun centers. We can choose one or the other, but as in most things, there is a third way, and that is to choose both.
Like the dying field out our window, and the vibrant meadow down the road, there are times when life presents us with stark contrasts that invite us to encounter them together. Grace and grief, love and loss, beginnings and endings, beauty and brokenness, healing and heartache. We can choose one or the other, but as in most things, there is a third way, and that is to choose both.
Maturity is not a static arrived platform, where life is viewed from a calm, untouched oasis of wisdom, but a living elemental frontier between what has happened, what is happening now and the consequences of that past and present, first imagined and then lived into the waiting future.
~David Whyte: CONSOLATIONS
What does your past tell you that can help you live more fully into your waiting future?
As a new week begins, I want to share three questions I heard this morning in church.
The message was given by Mateo, a high school student, on the topic of climate change. An issue so complex, so overwhelming, and so fraught with powerful emotions from those on all sides, that it can be tempting to find ourselves stuck in an endless cycle of hand wringing. Which, as far as I know, has yet to solve a problem. This young man, however, suggested that there might be a more effective approach to this global issue, that as stewards of the planet, impacts us all. In a quiet voice, confident in his message, he encouraged us to cut climate change down to size by thinking locally. As he shared his own story of coming to grips with the challenges facing our shared planet, he suggested that it might help each of us to ask ourselves the same three simple questions that he asked himself when attempting to wrap his young arms around this global bone of contention.
How is climate change affecting me?
How is it affecting others?
What are we going to do about it?
Simple questions with no easy answers, but in contemplating a worldwide situation in his own neck of the woods, he found it easier to see opportunities to make a difference. And suggested that we might too.
Imagine if each one of us decided to be curious. To honestly assess the impact our changing climate is having right in our own back yard, to consider how it is impacting those in our community, to search for ways to address our common concerns, and then get to work.
Mateo’s words rang true not only in relation to our rising temperatures, but as a template to approach any problem that feels too complex to tackle. From global issues to those within the walls of our own workplaces, schools, and homes, a good place to start is with the same three questions.
How is this fill-in-the-blank issue affecting me?
How is it affecting others?
What are we going to do about it?
Rancho La Puerta - Photo by Tom Pierson
There are days when nothing sounds good, and trying to decide what to do feels like an exercise in futility.
Maybe you can relate.
You start one thing, find yourself doing another, and never actually finish anything. Kind of like a dog that turns around and around and around, trying but never finding the right spot to lie down. By the time my head hits the pillow tonight, I’ll be lucky if I’ve actually completed one meaningful task.
I got up with the intention of spending some good creative hours at my desk to prepare for an upcoming speaking gig, and reaching out to some potential agents to help me spread my message to the receptive audience I know is out there. Today isn’t the day to do anything like that. Not if I want to actually accomplish anything worthwhile.
So.
Rather than take it all too seriously, I’m giving myself permission to wander aimlessly, let the dust of a couple of intense weeks settle, finish some laundry, unload the dishwasher, make a good dinner, crawl into bed, and call it good.
The sun will come up again tomorrow.
We’re just back from what will likely be our last snowshoe excursion for the year. Temperatures are rising, the snow is melting, and the conditions that have made it possible to head out every morning for the past couple of weeks are fast disappearing. While I’ll miss the daily treks out across the snow, I won’t miss the regret I’d feel had I missed the chance to head out when I had it.
Snowshoeing out my back door was but one opportunity not to be missed, and it is my sense that we are surrounded by possibilities large and small waiting for us to take advantage of them. Whether the chance to repair a relationship, have a conversation, embark on an adventure, learn to play the piano, connect with a friend, capture a photo, or strap on some snowshoes and head out the door, the chance to do it is now.
Regret is a tough one, and it usually follows a missed opportunity.
Let’s not miss it.
We all have old stories and toxic messages that keep circling around, appearing on our landscapes yet again. When they do, we have the choice of grabbing hold or taking a step back. In grasping a familiar message, we deepen our connection to the past, and continue to carry it with us into the future. In stepping back, we have the opportunity to evaluate its relevance in the present, and decide whether it is worth the weight it adds to our load. Each time our stuff takes another lap around our block, we have the choice is to latch on or let go.
“The distance between what you want – what you clandestinely imagine in between the ritual tasks of the day – and where you are, is long.
The distance between where you are today and a first action toward what you want is embarrassingly short.
To be confused about the difference between near and far is to free your mind and bind your feet.”
My first retreat of 2019 is over. Today I witnessed those present spend their precious day considering what it might mean for them to live more closely connected to who they are, why they are here, and where their life is calling them. Theirs was, as it always is, incredibly brave work, and I am humbled and grateful to have been their trail guide.
Today, as in any of my work, my greatest task was to help create a safe space. At the end of this day, here is what I am reminded of once again:
Given a safe space, people are able to engage in breathtakingly courageous thinking.
Given a safe space, people are able to recognize, listen to, and trust their inner teacher.
Given a safe space, people are able to show up for themselves, and for one another.
Given a safe space, people are able to find the courage to take the next right step, no matter how small or large it may be.
There is a trail leading deeper into our lives, and the trailhead lies squarely beneath our feet. Personally and professionally, taking the next right step begins with a right understanding of where we are now. Moving forward, our task is to follow the trail that connects who we are with how we live, so as not to get lost in a life that isn't our own.
Today I’m leading a retreat, and we will be considering three questions. Perhaps you’d like to join us.
Our lives don't happen by accident; we participate in creating them every day, and one step at a time.
MOLLY DAVIS is the founder of Trailhead Coaching & Consulting. She writes about lessons and adventures from the trail, and knows from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to discover where you want to be, is to get lost where you don't. If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to pass it along.
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