It was a westerly wind blowing straight and carrying large snowflakes signalling the cold. We took a moment to crouch down and feel into the experience. Max-dog in his element, tail wagging as he chased all the scents.

I stood close to the trees for protection and pulled my hat down with the flaps across my ears tied with string under my chin. It’s a hunker-in day. Keep the fires going stay warm with tea and hot soup.

I worked with people that ignore the signs and push through. I’ve been one of those leaders at times, so focused on the goal of the outcome forgetting all else. The cost is higher than we expect when we push through. It’s OK to slow down or stop and take in where you’ve got to, what’s left of the journey, and how the people and resources are around you, before moving on.

I took in the length of the pond from the southernmost vantage point. I crouch down to minimize the impact of the wind. I listen to Max-dog dart around behind me and I made my plans for the day. Letting go of any other ideas beyond what my inner wisdom was informing me and the elements around us.

What does “hunker-in” look like to you today?

The Birds let me know that everything is going to be all right.

The Bluejay was first as they typically are, landing at the top most branch of a nearby tree. Then the crows came by to reinforce  the message I was grateful to hear - all is well.

Sometimes we just need to see beyond ourselves to know that all will be well. Beyond the moment. Beyond the feeling that may be overwhelming us in the moment.

Max-dog and I continue down the path. He chasing all the sounds, ahead but not too far. I slowed my attention to the sounds, the feeling of my footsteps across the uneven terrain, watching Max-dog ahead. The feeling of gratitude and appreciation became present and the acknowledgement of what was before.

The birds continue to call out the story of the forest and the day thus far.

What are the Blue Jays singing to you?

A client recently hired a new executive to join their ranks. I asked the CEO his expectation of their impact, “raise all boats” he said. Raise the expectation and performance of all leaders in the company. Tall order I thought, no? And just like sunlight, entirely possible to change the scene.

I felt the sunlight behind me like an old friend come to visit, all the familiarity in anticipation of the joy of their embrace. What will the sunlight tell me today? What will it illuminate that I hadn’t seen before?

I watched it light up the fields landing on ice particles in the trees and tops of the golden rod. Creating diamond sparkles throughout the field.

I watch the light change the landscape before my eyes. The invitation to greater activity. The birds now awake moving with speed and grace to gather food and whatever supply they need for themselves and their nests.

What light do you want to invite into your life today?

The snow felt like marshmallows. I swooshed along the path, Max-dog happiest in this cold and after the fresh snow. I felt the joy of my feet moving through step-by-step the marshmallow sensation and it kept me present. Present to my body, how it felt and the beauty of my surroundings.

Passing the big old maple to remind me again of resilience, having weathered another wind and snow storm. I notice a branch missing and the scar left where it was to heal over.

I swooshed along grateful for this child-like feeling of marshmallows to keep me present and out of any future telling or past rumination of thoughts.

I said to myself, remember this feeling in your feet and the joy that reverberates through your body. Remember for when you want to come back to this in the face of whatever surprise the day may bring.

Is this resilience or a resilient practice? No matter it will serve my feet and myself when I need it.

What sensation does your body want you to remember?

I reached out to feel the strength of the young cedar sapling bending with the wind.

I felt into it’s strength and resilience, this young cedar tree in a lone spot along the north east bank at the pond.

I put my hands around the trunk half way from the top - the wind was so strong - I imagined the tree to be soft like those silly advertising balloon figures that blow about without any resistance. No, this tree was solid rooted the branches intricate patterns of green leaf and buds. I was humbled.

How do you remind yourself that you have the strength of tree?

It was all white, the sky completely grey reflecting the light across the snow and ice making everything a bright white. It was hard to discern the landscape, except up close.

The pond has turned into an ice rink covered in a thin layer of powdery snow

It reminds me how the light can be at a sandy beach, so bright it’s hard to see beyond the reflection.

As leaders we must offer answers and a platform for the questions so we can share together in the wisdom of the answers. Goals give us a sense of the landscape but we need the practice of query into the detail, otherwise it all looks white

The birds have discovered the feeder at the house and it’s become an acrobatics game as to who gets what seed is left and in what order. They hover in the lilac bush branches just above, waiting their turn. Everyone will get some. There is no squawking, just a playful show of their prowess at flying acrobatics. Max-dog also stares out the window at them and Emmett-the-cat calls to be let out.

What’s important to discern today?

What details need attention?

I looked back to see the sunrise alight the trees along the path by the garden. I noticed the beauty of this perspective.

Several times over the past week I have been asked in various ways to reflect on this past year, and I resisted. It’s been a hard year, and my ego offered we’ve done lots of reflecting already, do we really need to do more?

Resistance is a great source for curiosity naming what’s underneath the resistance or simply noticing the feeling and looking anyway seems like a good thing to do. My resistance to reflect became muted in the beauty of the golden light.

Who wants to look back at the mistakes we’ve made and do the good hard work of really looking for the lessons. It’s not fun although rewarding for the knowledge we can take forward.

There’s a mixed bag of skills and practises across my client base in the discipline of reflection so as to learn and gain wisdom.

Some leaders have a rhythm they create within their teams. A quarterly or semiannual review, for example, to set the stage for what’s to come. A ritual of retrospectives at the end of any major projects. Early in my career at McKinsey & Co the best leaders set up a forward looking ‘pre-mortem’ at the kick off and then retrospectives at the mid point and end of each project. Rich with learning and shared experience.

The best engineering teams routinely conducted retrospectives as part of their agile delivery methods, and some founders and CEOs would use this holiday time to reflect on wins and losses over the year. Focusing on their learning across a few key aspects, like relationships, succession, systems and structure and personal development.

Still some don’t, focused on the next goal or the problem of the day. Always in ‘fire fighting’ an exhausting way of being that perpetuates both their good traits and bad.

As I looked back at the path, awash in golden light I saw the greenhouse, garden, and yurt. Key structures each holding lessons from the previous seasons and this current one. An offer of possibility to what could be great in the season to come.

What do you have to do to make this a great year?

—//—

I liked this quote too as it reminded of faith:

God knows far more about living a life of joy and blessings than we do. ― Randy Loubier

I caught myself lost in thought by the time I’d gotten to the mid point of our morning walk. So I slowed to take in my surroundings and breath in appreciation for the morning time. This is the important time to slow my start to the day. To set intention and clear my mind.

We rounded the pond and I stopped to look up. The snow has been falling in that magical speed of slow fast. It’s collecting and falls with the grace of floating with an unseen force.

I looked up to take it in.

Each snow flake a unique creation and large enough to see the detail of their shape size and speed.

I stuck my tongue out bringing me back to the joy of youth - laughing at myself I stood for a while to watch each flake fall as though in slow motion. Giving me the opportunity to see each one while seeing the whole.

What do you want to slow down and take in?

I have heard from many readers they value hearing me read - I hope these bring you added comfort inspiration and joy.