The Long View
May 8, 2012
“. . . when you start fretting the day-to-day, you lose track of the long view,” says the protagonist in Charles Frazier’s latest novel Nightwoods.
It’s easy to do. Easy to get tied up in daily concerns and controversies that cloud our ability to concentrate on long-term goals and objectives and the big themes that should be apparent in our daily activities.
Day-to-day fretting causes heartburn for investors who ignore their long-term investment strategies and goals. It sidetracks businesses which lose track of long-term goals for the sake of boosting a quarterly earnings report. It affects politicians who, while keeping an eye on polls, take their eye off their principles. It’s probably taking a toll on school administrators who feel compelled to improve students’ test scores more than to infuse students with a passion to be lifelong learners.
I’m aware of some in our work who are able to refocus on the long view by getting away from the daily grind; but I know others who find the best way to refocus on the meaning and purpose of our work is to go to an event. Just be a spectator where you’re not on duty, not responsible for anything. To observe the action and emotion and school/community spirit. To see a coach counsel a dejected player. To watch an official make a tough call with perfect mechanics and people skills.
The day-to-day fretting may not disappear, but it gets placed in a much better perspective. The long view.
No Returns or Refunds
January 18, 2013
The “Boxing Day” tradition of New Zealand, like most of the current or former British Empire, is to return to stores on the day after Christmas the unwanted or ill-fitting gifts of Christmas. My wife and I exchanged no gifts this year, except for the gift of time with each other and our China-based son and his wife in New Zealand. So we had nothing to return, and we’ve had moments to savor.
Outside our window on Christmas Day was an extinct volcano rising 758 feet above New Zealand’s Bay of Plenty coast. Its peak was hidden in clouds sent by the remnants of Cyclone Evan. We couldn’t see the top of Mt. Maunganui; but our fragment of the Roberts family who had gathered for this holiday, below the equator and on the other side of the International Dateline, decided on a “Christmas climb” anyway.
Attempting a challenge whose goal is shrouded in uncertainty is an every-season experience of coaches, which may be the opiate that draws so many men and women to that vocation for so long, and consumes coaches so far beyond what are reasonable hours for most other occupations.
Even in the more mundane existence of a state high school association administrator, it is the unknown of each year, week and day that energizes the grind. How boring it would be to know what’s at the end of each climb. How exciting it can be to come to a problem-solving table with good ideas and also with the expectation that the best ideas will come out of collaboration with others’ good ideas.
I count myself among the fortunate folks who, at the end of most days and weeks and years, do not feel inclined to want to return the gifts that each has brought. And I’m still attracted to the discovery of what the next cloud-shrouded climb may reveal.