A time and a place

30 May 2014



[Why the Philippines means so much to me.  Such a sacred piece for me to share.]



I've decided to pay a great respect to the phrase - a time and a place.  

I've followed a cadence my whole life that always seeks resolve.  Whether my docket contains a task to be done, a tension with a stressor or person to be loosened, an emotion to be understood and let go, I've always approached it immediately, honestly, dutifully, and whole-heartedly.  Until resolved. 

No one ever had to tell me to do anything because I surely completed all and much more on my own.  And no one ever had to teach me to face my problems because I surely stomped them out and much more all on my own.  I never delayed or retreated or stuck my head in the sand and ignored.  I was rooted, and I was very wise with my resolves.  My. whole. life.

Except in high school.  Because obviously everything was THE biggest deal, and I HAD to overreact with all those hormones.  

But really, life starts with such a little body and such little troubles.  And the sizes of each stay relative until your body stops growing, but your mind doesn't.  And then your complexities start to get bigger.  And your relationships more complicated.  And the resolves of emotions and duties start taking a bit more time, and a bit more focus.  But nothing that I couldn't face, overturn, and smooth out.

But at one point, the troubles became too dark for me.  Far too massive than anything I was equipped to handle.  Which I suppose was the point - God allowed me to finally face something that I couldn't fully overturn and smooth out in my own due time.

But because resolve is my cadence, I tried.  I tried so hard.  I sought to answer all the questions.  To identify and release every emotion, to understand, forgive, heal, mourn, fight, fold, spit, heel.  To do all that I possibly could to just tie up all the loose ends and lay it down to rest.  Pressing upward for understanding, questions, guidance.  Peace.  Often thinking I had finally reconciled it all, feeling less haunt, less hold.  But it never lasted.  Another round of prayers.  And another.  And another.  For years. 

And I came to a point where I felt so exhausted from carrying it all.  to no end, and seemingly for no return.  It was frustrating and lonely, and that's largely what made me decide to head off to save the Philippines.  Because what did I have to lose?

Well there I was.  Day 17 of being in the Philippines.  On a bus riding back from one of the island ports.  I had just ended a very expressive and understanding conversation with Mace, after weeks of an emotionally and physically exhausting adventure through the wreckage of the country.  Our souls were opened raw.  I turned to look out the window at the quickly passing trees to think.  And then, I was entirely overcome.  It was no unnoticeable surge, no unmistakable message.  God was right there.  Right inside my heart, my body.  I felt every empty space filled with light.  So much warmth burning from within my body that I was stunned.  It was one of the far most joyous feelings I've ever had, and I am one who feels much, often and deeply.  But this was beyond exquisite. 

And then I felt His message.  "You are done.  You have finished a journey that no one will ever fully know.  And you have no greater triumph to speak of then this.  And you have done it so well."  And I felt entirely lifted.  Free-floating.  Knowing He had taken hold.  His peace took over my unended resolve, and I felt calm.  He would finish from here, and it was no longer mine to hold. 

My eyes watered up with tears.  I've accomplished much of very notable level in my life, but I knew this was my absolute finest victory.  And yet, it was one that no one will every fully know.  But God's understanding was so powerful and unparalleled that I am okay with that. 

However, time has passed since that bus ride in the Philippines, and though I will never forget that ethereal feeling, that satiating amount of peace waxes and wanes.  Like the moon cycle, like... another cycle.  And some nights, I find my faculties weakening with fatigue, or being in conversations where suddenly the doors are opened, and I feel that tug to start resolving. 

And I am SUCH an impressionable person, moreso than most.  I'm impressionable to kindness and to beauty.  But that means I'm also so impressionable to all thins hurtful.  I focus consciously on lightening cruel outside imprints by saying it's okay.  It's okay that I am one who leans into her heart.  I used to try and pray away my sensitivities.  But it's kind of beautiful to be someone tender once in awhile. And then, let's be honest, I get a good night's sleep and wonder what my deal was.  Then I hop, skip, and jump on my merry little way.  I am such an energetic and adventurous little thing that feeling any other way is so incongruent with my very nature.  I believe so firmly in getting out of stale shadows and just. being. happy.

And I have also ultimately learned to say - a time and a place. Many loose ends don't need to be tied.  Some questions will never be answered.  And the place for resolve is not here or now.  So you must take your shadows to the edge of town and leave them there.  And if you find them inching closer, gradually looming over you once again, ungrip and head on.  Full resolve is not always the way to peace.  Just let go.



People are rivers, always ready to move from one state of being into another.  It is not fair treat people as if they are finished beings.  Everyone is always becoming and unbecoming.   [Kathleen Winter]


Upward and onward,







Post Script Post-Out:  Cici is eating her dinner next to me.  It's quiet and then I hear, "That was weird.  I just licked my iPad."    hahahah!

And also a shout-out to my Sisterhood (Amy, Hilary, Jo, Jeni, Kami, Nora).  My band of women who stayed up with me into the morning hours talking, feeling fully at home and unified in their presence.  They make me feel like I can do anything!


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Takes time to tame a beauty



As I walk out to my car on Friday evening, with bags of clothes and hiking packs, people are tugging at me to stay.  Not like, literally.  But the thing is.... young single professionals take their holidays veeeery seriously.  Ya know,  young ens with no one to report to, no extra mouths to feed, but some extra cash in the bank.  Glamorous life.  (Until sometimes it's really not).

So, in order to take full advantage of Memorial Day, a number of friends invited me on their group trips.  St. George, Zion's, Los Angeles, Seattle, Duckbeach.  Stop ya'll - going hiking with the family in eastern Idaho.

What's that booing? 

Hiking is great and all, but so is my grandma's house right next to the place we are hiking.  Her house is my personal spa getaway.  5,000 creams and every fragrant, foamy thing for hot baths, and everything smells like her garden of lilacs and lilies.  Also, she does my laundry and it always smells like heaven.  And also that Moroccan oil for my hair.  Holy.

A woman knows her self-care.

So I drive up after work.  But because I arrive rather late and my grandma is already in bed, I am unsuccessful at breaking into her house with a credit card.  So, I end up on my brother's couch.  That's fine.  He has.... granola bars.

The next morning we get up early to meet up with the rest of my family.  The drive out to Palisades is so gorgeous!  I feel like I am driving into a tiny, secret Garden of Eden.  The open, green rolling valleys.  Rich, blue-clouded sky.

We arrive at the campground that my mom tried so hard to convince me to stay at.  Spa or dirt....  There is a time and a place for everything.

"Good to finally see you."  Dad.

"I've been ready for an hour and a half, but I had to wait for two girls to shower and get ready."  Devin (referring to wifey and myself).

"Hey, it takes time to tame a beauty,"  I say.  "You should have thought about that before you married a pretty girl.  God did invent ugly people.  They probably don't need much time." 

"Says the girl who runs 10 miles and then sits straight down at the dinner table without showering."

"Point not taken."

We're not dry on sarcasm - Devin Lebron Jabar Jabar James.  Or black people names.

On that note, we head out for the mountains.  We reach the trailhead for Palisades and look at the map.  Four miles to the lower lake, we'll stop for our picnic, and then two extra miles to the upper lake.  Loaded up with sunscreen and water packs, let's do this!

I walk a few hundred yards with my family, all of us energetic and happy, pointing out hawks and bugs to each other.  One would think we hadn't grown up as a camping family.  Though that is defined very differently between my father and the rest of us.

After awhile, I tell them that I'm going to run and I'll wait up at the lake.

Trail running.  The number one most blessed thing to me in the entire world.  Nothing makes me happier then a solid trail run.  And little did I realize this was about to be the best one I've ever had.

The trail starts deep inside the trees, dark brown dirt path, surrounded by berry bushes. The thing about running on a narrow little space surrounded so closely by stationary objects is you feel like you are going SO fast.  It ascends just enough to give a good leg burn, but then down enough for a sweet relief, over and over, thoroughly working all the muscles in my legs.  All the while dodging back and forth between rocks, and jumping high over tree roots and larger mounds. 

The trail weaves out into the open canyon, next to the rushing river, and then back into the trees.  The sun is bright, and the birds chirp loudly.  I run with no headphones, just listening to nature and my heavy breath.  After sprinting for several miles, I wonder how far ahead I am of my family, because I haven't come to the lake yet, and I decide waiting there all alone would be lonely anyways.  So I turn and run back to hike all this way with my family instead. 

I sprint back a ways and find my family resting on a cliff.  We all sit for a few more moments and continue on.  Walking and climbing and laughing and teasing.  Finally, we come over the final bend overlooking the lake.  Beautiful!

We walk around and find a good place to rest and eat lunch.  We sit by the lake and chat for a good while.  Then hear rolling thunder.  It gets closer and closer, so we decide to head back instead of continuing on or we'll be careening out of here on a mud slide.  Though I try to convince them that it's actually the funnest way to go, as it happened to me last summer.

But, we choose to trek back before the storm, pausing at our same cliff for a break.  We spot a mountain goat at the top of the cliff across the river.  "What if he just fell off?"  Har har har.  

We continue walking.  Brennan and I run ahead to play in the mud, chase snakes, poke bug nests with sticks, tell each other jokes and giggle, climb on all the boulders to the side of the trail so we can scare passerbys.  He's 11 and I'm... not.  It's fine.  (I love that kid so much, proof here)

My whole family finally reaches the trailhead, an entirely full day of trail running and hiking, legs satisfied, water bottles empty.  We climb back in my dad's truck and head back to camp, deciding family hike day should become tradition.

I stay for just a moment to visit, and then jump in my car to continue on before the sun fully sets.  Two-day spa awaits.


Here's to God not taming any of the Earth's beauty, and a perfect Memorial weekend.

Upward and onward,







Nobody can make it out here alone

29 May 2014



Between meetings today, I head out to go drop off my CPA application in person.  It feels more legit that way. 

Walked that sucker straight over to the SLC Professional Licensing Office.  All the papers clipped neatly together, organized more perfectly than anything they’ve ever seen before.   

I waited behind a woman bouncing around in booty shorts, covered in tats, purple hair, while I stood still in my pencil skirt, bow-tied blouse, holding my black folder.  She finishes.  I approach the window and slide my full application packet to this cute blonde lady. 

She instantly congratulates me, asking me about my experience with the tests, “I’ve been giving out lots of cosmetology licenses today, but this is the first CPA.  Incredible.  Good for you.”  We talked about her friend who is a single mom of 4 boys, working full-time, and just can’t pass these license tests because of the time commitment.  I chime in with understanding.  Then she scans my check, stamps my packet, and slides a receipt back through the window – because the cost of time for someone to read all that... apparently $85.   

“Again, congratulations, this really is a huge accomplishment.  You're license will be active in a few days,”  she says, as I turn on my heels to leave.  

I clutch that tiny little itty bitty receipt with both hands while I walk back out through the giant lobby.  Heels clicking and echoing real loud, I can't get over how small the receipt is.  This is it?  No.  This is it!  CONFLICTED.  What should I be feeling?

This just seems so...  anti-epic.  Shouldn't there be a button I press that cheers?  Or balloons falling from the ceiling?  Should I ask the security guards for a hug?  Can I dance on their desk, while they blink the lights, and I rip up my little receipt and make it rain?  But the security guards are half-comatose. My only option seems to be running outside and taking a selfie.  Which is the worst celebration I can think of.

I just feel like this is such a big moment!

But I feel so strange that it's only huge in my heart, as it's not seen by or shared with anyone else.  I want to feel it with another.  I want someone to be right beside me, stop to grab my face in their hands and say, “Holy cow you wondrous little woman you.  Look at you!” 

But... I have a meeting with my project manager in 5 minutes, so there's no time to make deep friends with a hobo.

At least I'm going to lunch with my friend Lib.  Who I call Steve and he calls me Nicole, because we've learned restaurants work better with generic white people names.  And then babysitting for my hometown girl, Joelle.  And then dinner and a full evening with my Sisterhood, while Julie and our Man House will miss me on our Thursday night food trucks adventure.

So I guess people are still around.  I won't end with any other claim than my life is full of the biggest grins and finest support.  Even if no one is present in such a grand moment. 

Here's to a smiley life.

Upward and onward,






Post-script shout-out:  Deeply saddened by Maya Angelou's passing this morning.  She's in my top 3 of my Most Admired People.  One of my absolute strongest models for life.

One of her poems is directly relevant to my feelings today:


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And the world takes our breath away

28 May 2014



Turns out this girl loves summer way too much.

I keep finding my way out into the blinding, blistering sun every second of every day.  Though, as it turns out, the sun is a greedy little thing in the summer and sucks out double energy.

Woke up exhausted.  Driving all the way to SLC seemed like too much work.  As did driving just down the street to my Provo office.  Need a vacation day from my vacation holiday.  Decide some extra rest is on the docket for today.

I text my buddy who I am supposed to meet for lunch and tell him "no can do, hooky day."  And then I email my boss using different words.  Something like, "not feeling well."

And thus began my day of... not working.

I drop my car off at the mechanic for a check-up.  My mechanic is at the top of my list.  He's seen me through all three of my cars, so he's basically like my best friend.  Ignore my overusage of that word.  He's just such a good and honest man.  His voice is super gruff, and he yells out of the side of his mouth like Popeye the Sailor.  Also, once when my car broke down a town away, I gave him a call, and he sent his brother all the way up to teach me how to hot wire it.  See, there are good friends, and then there are great friends.  Though he never remembers my name...  ANYWAY.

When the time came to pick up my car, even though the shop is a fair ways away, I start walking.  Because... SUN!

And also, because when I came back into town on Monday, I drove passed the Provo Pioneer Cemetery, and it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever witnessed.   Instantly placed up at the top of my most incredible sights list, right next to the Taj Mahal.  Though the Taj Mahal took my breath away with it's majesty, the cemetery astounded me with its love and color.  Every gravestone was covered in flowers and flags, as far as the eye could see.  I've run by every day since, just gawking.  And today was the perfect day to walk inside.

So I walk over and enter.  I was all alone, walking up and down between the gravestones.  Admiring how some of them are so beautifully gothic.  Touching people's names.  Wondering about their stories.  The wind blows my hair, swirling around my face.  I follow the wind and spin around to look at all these hundreds of people at once, all adorned by their families and friends, so many meaningful lives.  The love of God fills the air.  I cannot usually grasp the grace of God, but in this moment that I do, I am overcome with gratitude.  Such a strong power that I kneel down.  He has so much love for His children.

After ending my sublime moment alone in the cemetery, I continue my walk through Provo.  I live in such a wondrous town.  Full of history and culture.  And my favorite ethereal mountain backdrop.  I walk further into the downtown streets.  By that point, walking several miles in the sandals I bought in Mexico has rubbed blisters onto my toes.  And though the sun may be greedy with energy, it's very giving with liberty.  A barefoot stroll is perfectly permissible in the summertime.

I keep walking and growing in admiration for everything around me.  The restaurants, the structures, the friendly hello's, and all the birthing nature!  Once the ball of awe gets rolling, may as well just let it plunge.

I arrive at my mechanic shop.  They hand me the keys and give me a couple bits of information.  "What do I owe you?" I ask.

"Nothing.  And we called this transmission place to get you a free check as well."
 
Ah man, who wants a greasy hug?



And no better ending then with homemade Red Curry and Chicken Peanut Satay up at The Man House.

What a day of hooky!



Upward and onward for all,


 
...

Post-script shout-out:  My homegirl Cici got engaged this weekend.  Lots of squeals have been happening around these parts.  All of us celebrated really late a couple nights ago, and then last night, Cici and I stayed up late laying in the upstairs hallway, dreaming and cooing.  Ya know, girl stuff.  She's one of the greatest people I've ever known.  Completely deserving of all this happiness.



  "Devin, you got a job down here?  Why didn't you tell me you were a clown window model."
 Of course I live in a town with a giant Audrey Hepburn photo.

Where my Creeper at?

27 May 2014

Not sure what I did with my Creeper.  Because apparently I purchased one at Walmart.
Good thing they're running cheap these days.

#cleaningoutthepurse



Upward and onward,


The runner girl goes to hot yoga

23 May 2014



Somehow our little friend group was formed.  Julie and myself, and three guys in a house up the street.  Every night, we find something new to do.  Bonfires, night games, cards, watch TV, watch J.D. watch cat videos, cook "family" dinners, play with their human sniper rifles, go out to restaurants at 10 pm and spy on people's dates.  Yesterday the text came from Cade: "Tonight let's get dinner at the food trucks."

All the Utah Valley food trucks come together one night a week and form a large circle.  Like a giant food court on wheels with every human, child, and dog packed in the center.  We huddle together around our little table, eating tacos from the most ghetto looking van of them all.  "Chantel, it looks like the rape vans you run away from."  Because my sister's friend told me when I was six that every large white van with tinted windows is full of kidnappers and they'll snatch me up if I walk too close.  Still have a complex about that.  And also she told me that if I look straight at the sun I'll go blind, and that someday all my freckles will merge together into one giant brown circle on my face.  I told her that her porcelain dolls will kill her in the night.

"Yep, that is the exact van that a rapist would have."
J.D - "Serve tacos by day, rape by night."
Jordan - "It's probably close to the shift change.  Chefs go home, rapists come in."
Cade - "Their motto - No one gets raped hungry."
Well that escalated quickly.

So we finish our meal and Cade says, "Hot yoga anyone?  Starts in 30 minutes."  Sure.  So we push our way through the crowd and head home to change.

My experience with yoga has been... interesting.  The first time I tried it in college off a DVD, and I laughed so hard that I ended up just sitting cross-legged on my living room floor and holding my face.  The next time was with my best friend Chelsea when I went home to visit her.  She's a certified yoga teacher, so I went to her class to wait for her, but decided to join in.  It was a mother-child class, so I was far more successful making cow sounds and running around the room as a bird.  And the final time was at my gym last summer.  I took my lunch break to try this whole yoga de-stressing thing, thinking it's time I took it seriously.  But after wobbling around in all the poses, feeling just a bit of strain but also not quite enough, I left halfway through.  I like either hard and heavy work-outs or being completing sedentary.  Yoga was a tease of the two.

But why not give hot yoga a try?  I like saunas.

So we all rummage through our work-out clothes, finding just the blend of light spandex and tank tops to spare some of the heat.  We grab our towels to soak up the sweat, and we're on our way, picking up our friend Drea who is also a certified yogi.  We turn Jordan's AC on full blast, thinking how great an idea to ice ourselves out before going in.  Clearly our concerns were anchored to one factor.

We enter the gym, which is generally used for martial arts, and get our equipment from the corner.  Drea rolls out her mat near the front, and we all set up behind her.  Of course Julie and I pick the far side.

The instructor comes out, a small blonde girl who keeps giggling into the microphone.  She turns off all the lights, clicks on a couple small lamps by her mat at the front, and cranks up the heat.  We start by laying on the mat and breathing deeply.  Her voice is slow and gentle.  I expect this to be a relaxing session, full of easy stretching, having our battle with the heat as the crux of the work-out.

Gradually the instructor has us sit up and being stretching.  Stretching our hamstrings, stretching our backs, planking in downward dog.  Her instructions become loud as she instructs us to plank and then come up in warrior pose.  Over and over, adding a harder pose each time.  We are resting in downward dog -  "now lift your hands off the mat."  Like levitate?  Still upside-down, Julie and I look at each other.

"Now reach back and wrap your arm around your left leg, grab your calf.  Now lift your other leg in the air."  This is a horrible game of twister.

"Now lift your leg all the way up, so you are doing a straight one-legged split."  What?  What if my leg can't even go perpendicular?  

"Good, now tuck in and scissor kick to the other side."  Scissor what?   

"Good - you'll get it."  Which is a way of saying, "you all suck."   

"Now let's do that again only faster.  Legs planted, grab your leg, lift up, scissor kick to the other side, up in warrior pose, now chattaranga" - What in the freak is a chattaranga?

Lady Limbs keeps going.  "Up dog, down dog, grab your leg, lift up into the splits, scissor kick, CHATTARANGA."  

 She sings, "FAAAAASTER! DOWN, UP, SPLITS, HOLD, SCISSOR KICK, WRAP, AND GRAB, CHATTAGRANGA, KICK YOURSELF IN THE YOUR HEAD, UP, DOWN, AGAIN!!!----"

And she's going so fast that the moves aren't registering in my head, so now I keep interpreting "downward dog" as laying flat face down, while everyone around me is up and moving their arms and legs in perfect rhythm with her instruction.  So I jump back up, putting my butt back in the air, and try to lift, but then my mat gets all scrunched up, and when I kick, I just trip over it, so I smooth it out and try to plank again, but her instructions are now even faster that they are just one full word, and all I can hear is "chattaranga," and I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!

But I keep going, jumping and lifting and planking and wrapping my arms around something, and then I pause to smooth out my mat again, which has shifted two feet to the right so I'm right up against Julie, but everyone else's mat is always perfectly flat and never budges.  Of course.  Everyone here is like a yoga ballerina.  And I am a mess.

Lady Limbs is still barking out instructions rapid fire, so I again quickly put my leg in the air, in some flamingo stance, and push off my hands so I'm fully up, and then scissor kick to the other side.  Oh I pray no one is watching me.  And then.... I knee myself right in the mouth.

I fall into downward dog,  MY downward dog, and I lay there laughing quietly.  But as I watch everyone around me bending and kicking entirely in sync, my snickering only gets worse because this is just insane!  Am I part of a huge joke?  Which only makes me laugh harder.  To ease the pressure of trying to stay quiet, I bite hard on my left shoulder.

And the class proceeds in perfect cadence while I give myself a hickey.

Finally that sequence ends, and the instructors voice goes back to being calm and gentle, and I feel okay again.  Julie and I look at each other in complete exasperation, both of our hair completely wild and unkempt.  One would never know that I once had a ponytail.

We all stand up in warrior pose and stretch all around.  "Now, we will do a tripod!"  She guides us into standing on our heads with one leg pointed outward, and the other curled up on top of our elbows.  I fumble around, not understanding what goes where and how I end up on my head, but at least I'm kind of upside-down!

I see Drea between my legs.  She's still as water, perfectly balanced and stretched in every direction.  So I just do some upside-down pretending - whatever that means - until we are instructed to come back up.

"Good, now we'll do the other side."  So Lady leads us through the moves again, all the way down to our heads.  This time I lift up and I'm balanced!  LADY LIMBS COME LOOK! 

And then while my butt is completely up in the air, and the rest of my body is folded right up underneath it, my eyes focus through the darkness and I see this staring straight at me:

Of course.  Because why wouldn't that would be in a Martial Arts gym?  Nothing like a punching bag man looming over me in the darkness and staring at my butt, while I stare right back.  Welcome to this view of my life, sir.

After we hold the position for awhile, we are told to stand up in tree-star-love pose.  Or something.  Then the session proceeds with us bending one limb, and looping through another, and then linking our hands, and then kissing something.  No matter how earnestly I try, I keep reaching through my legs and grabbing my own butt.  And no, I cannot kiss my shin.

Finally we are allowed to lay back down on the mat, close our eyes, and relax.  Which is what I thought this whole session was supposed to be like.  I don't know what just happened in the middle there.  Lady Limbs turns on some relaxing music, and we all breathe deeply.  I feel horrified.

The lights come on, and my friends and I look over at each other.  Their faces are all red and backs all sweaty.  For the first time, I realize I didn't even notice the heat!  While everyone was experiencing this awakening hour of smooth and true hot yoga, I was experiencing a catastrophic, unrecognizable fight routine in my dark little corner with Punch Man.

We pack up our equipment and gather our belongings to leave.  I pause for one final moment at the door.....

Any ceiling cameras?  Nope.  Okay, I'm good.

"Hey guys, let's go kayaking next week instead."


Here's to movie moments in your own life.

Upward and onward,









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Finding the focus

22 May 2014



I really believe in the power of a focused mind.

Which reiterated to me in a collaboration meeting this morning where people just kept talking, of which was mostly irrelevant and extremely anti-directional.

To throw it out straight, meetings of the like are so hard for me.  I'm pretty deliberate when I speak.  As in, I like all my thoughts to have a rounded conclusion.  A clear takeaway.  So group ideation is something I'm not sure I believe.  I think it's best to form thoughts in solitude.  First gather and connect ideas in your own mind, and then present them to each other in a much more effective soundboard setting.  Then you can build off each other and go somewhere with it.

But coming into collaboration with just a bunch of unprepared people, can't think of a bigger waste. 

So we struggle a couple hours through a meeting that I'm not even sure what the objective was.  Someone was making a list on the board of all the disconnected thoughts.  Just transferring flat words to the flat board.  What is the purpose here?

Finally, I stand up and go to the back of the room to try and make sense of what everyone is saying. 

The discussion ends, and after the closing thoughts are shared to adjourn the meeting, the manager turns and asks, "what have you been working on back here?"

"Oh.  Wow...."  he says.  "THIS is what we needed."

Though I have respect for and can understand that people process in very different ways, surely some find satisfaction in endless churning discussions, I have noticed that all my closest relationships are with people who ultimately use information to find the necessary action.  Who seek to drive to some sort of end result, and then turn and make an effect.  People who are focused.

So today, my hat is off to executors!



Upward and onward,






Their thought board:

And the liberty I took to organize it:
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