I thought this was going to be a three part series.
It was.
That was my intention.
Then?
I saw how well ya’ll have been responding.
As such, I made it two thirds of the way across the road.
Like the pragmatic squirrel, I changed direction.
Leaders, parents, politicians?
The all get criticized for flip flopping.
They take a lot of heat for changing direction.
Or?
They get eviscerated for not making change happen quickly enough.
This is mostly done by the rats or squirrels who haven’t crossed the road.
They’ve played in the ditches perhaps.
They’ve climbed trees.
But?
These folks haven’t seen traffic.
Not from the perspective of being underneath a moving car.
These folks, without the ability to pause, to alter course, to behave in ways that seem erratic?
These folks simply don’t know what they don’t know.
They may have seen the road.
They may have seen others cross.
Have they done it themselves?
Not so much.
Once we get into a new role, the field of experience changes.
Our limits, if we’re lucky, become more clear to us.
When we can acknowledge and work within them our chances of success grow.
Squirrels who pause seem to make magic happen.
They can cross roads in ways that seem impossible.
When we put our head down and act like a determined rat?
Our chances of being crushed increase.
I started writing this writing this series as a three part bit with some intention.
After some pause?
I’ve expanded the scope.
I didn’t know that I would need to until I got here.
That’s where you come in.
As you show up and provide feedback, I can pause, adjust and ideally serve you better.
This post proves at least one thing:
I can’t count.
And?
You can count on the Foolsletter to be delivered every day.
Share it with a friend.
And we can cross this damn road together.
Much love,
And squirrelishnes
Jimbolio!
I think you count just fine.
Not surprising, a professional clown, is a natural improviser. Actually, a professional anything should be able to improvise: guitar player, dancer, martial artist, speaker, singer or teacher.
In karate, the learning and tests for belts are based on a routine called a kata of new movements imbedded in previously learned ones. The learning is highly structured and muscle memory is developed amazingly well through repetition. I watched a student test for black belt. The routine was demonstrated. The portion against an opponent? A free spar, for the first time. You had to improvise your test spar for the first time. Mouth guards, high tension, and a real opponent...not a human executing known responses to your known attack. Want a black belt, you needed intuition and muscle memory, as well as skill.
Two times I used karate using intuition and muscle memory outside of the dojo. Once, at Costco, I had placed my midsized, overstuffed purse on the ledge for cheque writing and stepped toward the cashier, likely to give her access to my card and say hi. Out of the corner of my eye, I perceived something red moving. Without thought, I assumed a position ( that I hadn't learned yet, but must have seen the next belt group practicing ) and with a movement that looks absolutely useless during execution, I hit the purse midair with my elbow, yes, you look a bit like a chicken pushing your wing forward. The purse moved in a high gentle arc about 2.5 feet to gently land on the conveyor belt and I was left inelegantly in a slightly squatted position, staring at the rescued purse. The cashier and her assistant are staring at me, the purse and me again, in a WTF kind of way. I easily pull into a standing position and state that was awesome, as a yellow belt, I hadn't even learned that move. There was blinking on their part. I was sold on karate. After my first year of practice, not only had a responded to a perceived danger, my body chose a suitable, and delightfully a, yet untaught move.
That subconsciously improvised rescuing of a purse in distress reassured me that I was changing at a deeper level. It was early days, but I was developing the skills of a rat and the responsiveness of a squirrel. With more practice, I felt optimistic that I could cross the road.