Skip to main content

excellent. how serious are you?



Have you been told you always say something? I have. Evidently, I respond with "excellent" and then ask two questions:

How serious are you? And, what's the vision?

Each could be asked independently of each other or in reverse order, stacked on each other. Answering one leads to the asking and answering of the other. I know, it sounds like a labyrinth conversation.

How serious are you? About a decision, about a change, about a direction or choice? If the answer is some laissez faire something, then nothing will occur. Serious action will not take place, and probably nothing will come of the thought. You see, the degree of seriousness creates movement. Movement, in turn creates a response.

I picture it like the proverbial mousetrap game - the dropped marble starts a chain of events.

What's the vision is directly tied to the serious question. The vision will determine the degree to which we seriously take things. A wishy-washy, obscured view doesn't require much. However, if we clearly see something, well that's another story. Huh? You might say. Let's come out of the ethereal clouds and bring this idea into everyday.

How serious am I about landscaping my blank canvas of a yard this spring? My quick response is, very; it's got weeds and dirt, a couple of lilac bushes and not much more.


But, what's the vision part of my seriousness? I can picture it in my head - lavender here, a dry stream there and a small patch of diamond shaped grass sort of in the middle.

So, if that's the vision, serious needs to sketch up a plan, figure out how many plants are needed and their placement so irrigation can be placed and the nifty concrete stepping paths that I want can be poured.

The same scenario plays out with other decisions as well - jobs, vacations, retirement. You name it.

I often come up with lots of thoughts and possibilities, but don't always put serious to those thoughts. They sit like a pile in the corner, collecting and accumulating, but never becoming.

I meet with a group of ladies, and the other night we were discussing dreams. What dreams for my future have I set aside or completely forgotten about? Do I have any dreams? Heck! That's a hard one, since we too often let things fade and they never see fruition.

An example from my soul of hidden and protected dreams is to be a "cool" writer, who has equally "cool" and thought-provoking things to say. This vision isn't something grandiose like becoming the next Anne Lamott, but that would fall in the "cool" category.

To that end, I have to ask myself the questions I've been waxing on about. I don't have the answers, and I don't have a clear vision of what that looks like. So, for now, I'll keep writing; working to perfect the voice I've been given.

Excellent!

Missy


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

urban girl in the country

green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas.  I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans.  This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm.  My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff.  On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers.  Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep.  Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven!  The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week.  Yippee!  I no longer needed to ...

are you strong enough to do it together?

reflecting - paulina lake, october 2015 Weekend getaways are all about kicking back and well, getting away from the entire buzz of life.  Caffeine excluded from this statement. Somewhere around noon of day two’s whatever we want to do schedule, my baby and I decided to hike around the lake that we’d been watching transform before our eyes.  The distance was seven and a half miles according to the sign.  That sounded totally do-able.  Especially since yesterday we had ventured out on two shorter hikes that amounted to six or so miles.  Besides, we’d walked a small part of the trail; it seemed like a pretty comfortable walk by the lake.  First glances can be deceiving. Now, in all fairness to avid outdoors people, it probably was easy peasy.  But to this urban girl, who only a few years ago had given up her love of walking due to not pleasant back pain from nerves having their life squeezed out; this hike was of larger-than-life proporti...

Parking on the verge

Sort of parked on the verge...at least it's mostly grass Living in Australia taught me many earth shattering things, like beets are called beetroot, but carrots are not called carrotroot.   You “ring” when you are phoning someone and to “call” is actually to stop by.    You can understand my American confusion at some of the Aussie ways and vernacular.   Fortunately, we had great friends that kept us straight on proper protocol in this once penal colony. Terminology tweaks set aside, there was the whole driving on the left side of the road.  What’s up with that?  Is it because they are on the other side of the world or just trying to be oh, so British?  I must admit, I never did relaxed when cars were careening toward me from the “wrong” lane.  Now, that we’re on the subject of cars, it is perfectly natural to park in the verge.  To be honest, I didn’t know what a “verge” was.  Oh, I knew the word as in “edge or limit” but i...