My neighbor had a very large tree in her yard. The evergreen tree was probably three stories high. Since the tree was not particularly well maintained her insurance company told her to cut it down as it was a danger to her home. She did. (Sad face.) I liked the tree.
Now the tree is gone. Even if we wanted it back, it's not possible to plant a three story tree. Even if we could dig one up somewhere, haul it over, and put it in a hole in the ground it would fall without the root system that it took years to build. That's the thing about trees. You can plant a seed or sapling or even a small tree, but putting up a really large tree in an instant, and expecting it to live, just isn't done
A sapling, on the other hand, is movable. We can put it just about anywhere there is earth and water. With some care and kindness, it grows into a tree. If we plant many and wait a long time, we have an orchard or perhaps a forest.
The key to having the forest, the orchard, or just one big ass tree is long term commitment and good old fashioned patience. No matter how hard I want it, the tree won't grow any faster than it's meant to. The root system is the intricate life force and stability of the mighty tree. Roots are a product of time.
Integrity is like that root system. Our integrity provides the stability and foundation that keeps us upright especially when the storms come. I am challenging myself to walk a walk of integrity, to be authentic, and remain standing even when the winds are trying to blow me over. Nobody said it would be easy. In fact, it's not easy. I suppose that I hold out hope that as the root system grows this tree will become more stable (if I live long enough.)
In the words of my favorite band Misty River's song "Branching Out" from their album Stories:
"When I grow up I wanna be a tree........ when spring comes by, I'm gonna get real green....on windy days I'll bend and lean.......If I should fall in storm or slumber, please don't turn me into lumber, I'd rather be a Lousiville Slugger......
You can click on the link below to hear Misty River sing this song! Hopefully they don't sue me for me putting a quote about them in this blog. I did buy most of the their albums AND concert tickets.
http://www.opb.org/programs/artbeat/segments/view/674?q=Misty+River
Peace! lw
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Stuck in the Deep End
Growing up in rural Texas in the 70's was a hoot for a kid. My parents allowed free roam of the neighborhood with the only caveat being that I had to be indoors by the time the street lamps shined. For a kid of only six, the freedom was sometimes daunting and often dangerous.
In the fall, just before school began, I learned the nearby community pool had been drained. I had been to the pool many times. The idea of seeing the deep end with no water fascinated me, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Back in those days there was no razor wire around the community pool, only a standard 10 foot wooden fence. I wasn't big enough to climb the fence, but I knew where to find a few loose pickets.
I convinced my young friend, Caroline, that seeing the bottom of the empty pool could change our lives forever. My four year old sister tagged along, sworn to secrecy. We were just small enough to shimmy through the loose pickets and into the community facility. The pool looked vast as we ran to the edge.
We descended the concrete steps on the shallow end and shuffled along investigating every crack in the pool bottom. And there it was ......... the deep end. The steep slope before us looked as enticing as a playground slide. At the bottom of the slide, even more alluring, was the big drain. A simple must see for any six year old is the big drain at the bottom of the deep end.
I wasn't allowed in the deep end. My mother didn't trust my swimming skills, so I was restricted to the shallows and kiddie pools. I grinned as I slid down the slope to the drain. I had thwarted my mother's protective nature. I put my eyes up to the drain and saw blackness. I put my hand down through the metal bars and felt damp air. My friend did the same and then we were bored. Nothing else to do here.
I started up the slope to head out and with sudden fear realized that it was too steep. I slid back down toward the drain. I tried again but I was too small to get the momentum required to get up the slope. As I stood on top of the drain gazing up at the clear blue sky, I notice the number 12 painted along the edge of the top of the pool. Three little kids, 12 feet down, on the drain and no way out.
Caroline started to cry. Little sis just stood there staring at me with her thumb in her mouth. They were not going to be any help. It was up to me. Since little sis was the smallest I tried to lift her up to edge of the slope but she still couldn't reach the edge. We slid back down the slope landing in a heap near the drain.
I shushed Caroline. I couldn't think with all that wailing. She shut up for a minute or two. I leaned again the cement slope. I instructed Caroline to climb up onto my shoulders. She did so kicking me not so gingerly in the ear. Next I had little sis climb our human ladder to Caroline's shoulders. Caroline put her hands under the four year old's feet and shoved her over the edge. She was out.
Since I knew she wasn't big enough to reach down to pull Caroline out, I gave her clear instruction to go get help from anyone but Mom. Off she went. She waved to us from 12 feet up. I screamed at her to get away from the edge.
"If you fall in, " I yelled, "we will all die in here. We will never get out! Go get help."
Caroline was sobbing again. I told her crying wasn't helping and shushed her again.
I am not sure how long we waited. Time is different when you are six, even slower when you are stuck in an empty pool. I was sure we had waited for hours, when at last I heard the laughter of two teen-age boys that Sis had rounded up in the park nearby. They stood there chuckling at our situation. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. One of the boys slid down the slope, hoisted me onto to his back, and ran up the slope, his friend grabbing his hand at the top and pulling him over. Then he went back down to get the crybaby.
We were rescued. We thanked our heroes who still hadn't stopped laughing. The boys jumped the fence and we slid back through our loose pickets. We three swore a pact to never tell our parents, keeping the secret for over 20 years.
When I contemplate what could have happened that day, it's disturbing. We could have been there a long time had I simply sat down and cried like my friend. The slope was too high and steep and we were too small. We needed help.
I think perhaps in some ways I was more in tune when I was six. I can't count the number of times since then that I have sunk to the bottom of life only to sit and whine about it. Despite the fact that I am very aware that rescue always involves someone else, I hesitate to ask for help concerned that asking for help leaves me vulnerable (and it does.) Conversely, I am the same person who rarely waivers when asked to help someone else.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
Self sufficiency has no solution for one who is stuck 12 feet down in the deep end.
Peace! lw
In the fall, just before school began, I learned the nearby community pool had been drained. I had been to the pool many times. The idea of seeing the deep end with no water fascinated me, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Back in those days there was no razor wire around the community pool, only a standard 10 foot wooden fence. I wasn't big enough to climb the fence, but I knew where to find a few loose pickets.
I convinced my young friend, Caroline, that seeing the bottom of the empty pool could change our lives forever. My four year old sister tagged along, sworn to secrecy. We were just small enough to shimmy through the loose pickets and into the community facility. The pool looked vast as we ran to the edge.
We descended the concrete steps on the shallow end and shuffled along investigating every crack in the pool bottom. And there it was ......... the deep end. The steep slope before us looked as enticing as a playground slide. At the bottom of the slide, even more alluring, was the big drain. A simple must see for any six year old is the big drain at the bottom of the deep end.
I wasn't allowed in the deep end. My mother didn't trust my swimming skills, so I was restricted to the shallows and kiddie pools. I grinned as I slid down the slope to the drain. I had thwarted my mother's protective nature. I put my eyes up to the drain and saw blackness. I put my hand down through the metal bars and felt damp air. My friend did the same and then we were bored. Nothing else to do here.
I started up the slope to head out and with sudden fear realized that it was too steep. I slid back down toward the drain. I tried again but I was too small to get the momentum required to get up the slope. As I stood on top of the drain gazing up at the clear blue sky, I notice the number 12 painted along the edge of the top of the pool. Three little kids, 12 feet down, on the drain and no way out.
Caroline started to cry. Little sis just stood there staring at me with her thumb in her mouth. They were not going to be any help. It was up to me. Since little sis was the smallest I tried to lift her up to edge of the slope but she still couldn't reach the edge. We slid back down the slope landing in a heap near the drain.
I shushed Caroline. I couldn't think with all that wailing. She shut up for a minute or two. I leaned again the cement slope. I instructed Caroline to climb up onto my shoulders. She did so kicking me not so gingerly in the ear. Next I had little sis climb our human ladder to Caroline's shoulders. Caroline put her hands under the four year old's feet and shoved her over the edge. She was out.
Since I knew she wasn't big enough to reach down to pull Caroline out, I gave her clear instruction to go get help from anyone but Mom. Off she went. She waved to us from 12 feet up. I screamed at her to get away from the edge.
"If you fall in, " I yelled, "we will all die in here. We will never get out! Go get help."
Caroline was sobbing again. I told her crying wasn't helping and shushed her again.
I am not sure how long we waited. Time is different when you are six, even slower when you are stuck in an empty pool. I was sure we had waited for hours, when at last I heard the laughter of two teen-age boys that Sis had rounded up in the park nearby. They stood there chuckling at our situation. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. One of the boys slid down the slope, hoisted me onto to his back, and ran up the slope, his friend grabbing his hand at the top and pulling him over. Then he went back down to get the crybaby.
We were rescued. We thanked our heroes who still hadn't stopped laughing. The boys jumped the fence and we slid back through our loose pickets. We three swore a pact to never tell our parents, keeping the secret for over 20 years.
When I contemplate what could have happened that day, it's disturbing. We could have been there a long time had I simply sat down and cried like my friend. The slope was too high and steep and we were too small. We needed help.
I think perhaps in some ways I was more in tune when I was six. I can't count the number of times since then that I have sunk to the bottom of life only to sit and whine about it. Despite the fact that I am very aware that rescue always involves someone else, I hesitate to ask for help concerned that asking for help leaves me vulnerable (and it does.) Conversely, I am the same person who rarely waivers when asked to help someone else.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
Self sufficiency has no solution for one who is stuck 12 feet down in the deep end.
Peace! lw
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Back Down the Rabbit Hole
After 5 wonderful days off, one traveling, two playing flyball, and two working the second job, I finally darkened the door at my "real" job. There was no welcome mat rolled out. No, "hey it's good to see you. " Nobody asked where I had been or how my weekend was.
A tad deflated I was when briskly reintroduced to the workplace drama that my stellar weekend had erased from my brain. I was accosted immediately with a tsunami of scheduling issues and an angry clinic cat that didn't want his nail trims. The twisted reality of people who don't act like they like each other that much, forced to spend all day together in order to have groceries and power, reared its bobble head with a shiny Cheshire smirk. I got cranky and couldn't seem to shake it.
To top it off, one of my doctors informed me that my speed of work (which I was thought was a good thing) was actually detrimental and that I needed to slow down. Slowing down is hard to do when you are super busy and always aware of the clock. I even caught myself refusing help simply because it was easier to do it myself rather than take time to interact with somebody else.
Don't get me wrong. I work in a very nice clinic with genuine veterinarians. I am paid a fair wage for a CVT, and my manager is wonderful advocate for her staff. I have turned down other jobs to stay there. I was looking forward to being back at my regular job, where I know where things are and what is expected, only to be dropped down the rabbit hole of reality. Whoosh!
In the world of work, even those who are lucky enough to have jobs we like, still have to deal with everyday nuisances of human relationships (and in my case animals too!) If you're good at it, you develop a coping skill set for the various scenarios that rub you wrong. If you're not, you limp along in your work relationships until you give up and find somewhere else to go.
I have to admit that I have become a super-coper. I have spent most of life "coping" with some thing or other. Lately, I ponder if it's possible to move through life without having to cope all the time. Can I invent a possibility of just being without needing to constantly cope with every stupid thing that comes my way? While I believe the answer is yes, I'm not so sure I know how to cope with it.
Peace! lw
A tad deflated I was when briskly reintroduced to the workplace drama that my stellar weekend had erased from my brain. I was accosted immediately with a tsunami of scheduling issues and an angry clinic cat that didn't want his nail trims. The twisted reality of people who don't act like they like each other that much, forced to spend all day together in order to have groceries and power, reared its bobble head with a shiny Cheshire smirk. I got cranky and couldn't seem to shake it.
To top it off, one of my doctors informed me that my speed of work (which I was thought was a good thing) was actually detrimental and that I needed to slow down. Slowing down is hard to do when you are super busy and always aware of the clock. I even caught myself refusing help simply because it was easier to do it myself rather than take time to interact with somebody else.
Don't get me wrong. I work in a very nice clinic with genuine veterinarians. I am paid a fair wage for a CVT, and my manager is wonderful advocate for her staff. I have turned down other jobs to stay there. I was looking forward to being back at my regular job, where I know where things are and what is expected, only to be dropped down the rabbit hole of reality. Whoosh!
In the world of work, even those who are lucky enough to have jobs we like, still have to deal with everyday nuisances of human relationships (and in my case animals too!) If you're good at it, you develop a coping skill set for the various scenarios that rub you wrong. If you're not, you limp along in your work relationships until you give up and find somewhere else to go.
I have to admit that I have become a super-coper. I have spent most of life "coping" with some thing or other. Lately, I ponder if it's possible to move through life without having to cope all the time. Can I invent a possibility of just being without needing to constantly cope with every stupid thing that comes my way? While I believe the answer is yes, I'm not so sure I know how to cope with it.
Peace! lw
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
2nd Job
I am leaving my job soon. Not my regular job. The second job that I had picked up due to needing more money. I have been doing relief work for the clinic up the street, filling in for some techs on vacation. After my 3rd day with them, they were offering me a job. I told them I wasn't looking, just trying to make some extra money. Besides, I am pretty sure they couldn't afford me.
I took a 3 week part time engagement, nothing like the place I usually work. It's not like a really wanted to work there full time. I love the job I have now. The change of pace was welcome and the opportunity to work with with lizards, rabbits, rats, skunks, and guinea pigs was fun and stimulating.
While the little animals were a blast, the real bonus was the new found confidence. Even though I have been pretty sure of myself at my regular place of work for some time, proving useful in spite of the fact that I had no clue where to find things, or how to work the their paperless medical record system, or anything about these veterinarian's particular protocols, was a real boost. Most of the staff was quite a bit younger than me. I knew tons of things they didn't. So I shared!
When you take a really short term assignment, your motivation to learn a lot of protocols is not. I learned as much as was absolutely necessary to function. Still, I used every veterinary skill I know how to use. My skills were respected and I was trusted to do more on my own without supervision than a relief tech would normally be allowed to do. I got called "amazing" for simply not being an idiot. Which just goes to show you that there are a lot of idiots in the world.
Would have been easy to simply judge the doctors and staff as being "not as good as the place I usually work" and just get by with them through the commitment. In the end, no relationships would have been formed, no teaching, and no learning. What a waste that would have been. Instead, I chose to accept the differences for what they were. When I left them today, the atmosphere was one of mutual respect, appreciation, handshakes, and hugs. I am sure I will help them again sometime and we will be happy to work together again.
Peace! lw
I took a 3 week part time engagement, nothing like the place I usually work. It's not like a really wanted to work there full time. I love the job I have now. The change of pace was welcome and the opportunity to work with with lizards, rabbits, rats, skunks, and guinea pigs was fun and stimulating.
While the little animals were a blast, the real bonus was the new found confidence. Even though I have been pretty sure of myself at my regular place of work for some time, proving useful in spite of the fact that I had no clue where to find things, or how to work the their paperless medical record system, or anything about these veterinarian's particular protocols, was a real boost. Most of the staff was quite a bit younger than me. I knew tons of things they didn't. So I shared!
When you take a really short term assignment, your motivation to learn a lot of protocols is not. I learned as much as was absolutely necessary to function. Still, I used every veterinary skill I know how to use. My skills were respected and I was trusted to do more on my own without supervision than a relief tech would normally be allowed to do. I got called "amazing" for simply not being an idiot. Which just goes to show you that there are a lot of idiots in the world.
Would have been easy to simply judge the doctors and staff as being "not as good as the place I usually work" and just get by with them through the commitment. In the end, no relationships would have been formed, no teaching, and no learning. What a waste that would have been. Instead, I chose to accept the differences for what they were. When I left them today, the atmosphere was one of mutual respect, appreciation, handshakes, and hugs. I am sure I will help them again sometime and we will be happy to work together again.
Peace! lw
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