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Do You See Life’s Signals?

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LESSONS FROM LIFE

One day, as I was driving across town, a traffic light just ahead of me turned red (don’t they always?) and I stopped at the intersection.

As I sat there, two men approached the crosswalk. One glanced up and around, at the lights and at the cars, read correctly the signs indicating that he could cross in safety, and strode confidentally across. The other, who had been beside him, stepped off the sidewalk, looked anxiously at the waiting cars, up at the lights, then at the cars, stepped back onto the sidewalk, looked around worriedly, and remained where he was. Eventually the lights changed, and as they turned a third man strode up, glanced at neither the cars nor the lights, and stepped confidently into the road. At the last moment, he realized that the cars had started to move, and leaped back to safety.

In this briefest of vignettes I saw one of those ubiquitous divisions of people and how they interact with life’s signs and signals.

The first seemed to be one of those who take the time to read life’s signals carefully and accurately. They know where to look, and what is significant. With that awareness, they do not need to question when it is or is not appropriate to take action.

Others may be aware of the signals but seem unable to decipher their meaning. They have little confidence in their ability to respond appropriately. They waste their time fearfully vacillating between action and inaction, missing opportunities and making little or no progress toward  their goals – if they have them. Perhaps they eventually get where they are going, but not necessarily as speedily or as safely as they might have wished.

Then there are those who are determined to go their own way regardless of life’s signals or rules. They may endanger themselves and their progress. They often cause problems for others as they clash with whatever else is going on. They do not take the time to consider their environment or the consequences of action before striding forward. In this case, disaster was averted but that does not always happen.

Which way do you tend to be? Is that by choice? If not, what might you need to do to change?

(As a coach who focuses on decision-making, perhaps I can help. I offer everyone a 40 minute phone consultation – see the Contact page to get in touch with me.)

Before you take a break…

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Diana suggests:

You’ve probably read all the data about how long it takes to get back onto a task once we turn to something else. You know… bathroom breaks… kitten videos… dramatic rescues of small animals from trees or drains… those things that we just HAVE to turn away from the real stuff for, only to return with our minds blank so that it takes times for us to get back into the swing of whatever we were doing.

Here’s my new policy. The interruption still happens (I’m a realist), but I am expecting that it will reduce the time it takes me to get back to the main task.

Before moving away from the task at hand, I bring up every screen that I am going to use for the next two or three actions on the list. There they are, staring at me, reminding me of what I was doing and what I intended to achieve before my brain hit pause. I don’t have to wonder what I was going to do, or where I was, because there it is.

Yes, even this post is included. I had the first line written before I turned away to eat dinner.

If you try it, please let me know if it works… or if it doesn’t. But even if it doesn’t, please be nice.

And if you like my work, I’d be SO delighted if you were to sign up for my irregular newsletter, “Work in Progress (because we all are).” The sign-up form is at the top of this page, on the right.

Diana

The Homemade Gadget that made Me a Hero

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Today I became almost a hero – no doubt for a very short time but it felt good to be able to help someone. I was reminded just how useful a small, simple gadget that I made long ago can be. Perhaps you will need one at some point in the future…

As the elevator arrived I stood aside for an older woman in a wheelchair and a younger one, probably her daughter, pushing the wheelchair and laden down with packages. Just as it seemed we were safely inside I heard a slightly out-of-place clink, assumed it to relate to the wheel chair, thought nothing of it, and reached for the door close button.

“Oh, said the wheelchair pusher,” I think I dropped something. She checked around, then “My car keys!”

I re-opened the doors. We both looked around, no keys. I looked at the little gap between elevator and hallway. So did she. “That’s where the sound came from she said.” Her voice pitched a little higher as she realized the problem that faced her.

I knew how near the security folk were, and that I had to be ready to head out to an appointment in less than 15 minutes. I thought, then, that there was nothing I could do, so I wished her the best of luck and hurried to my apartment… thinking.

By the time I was ready to head out, the thinking had clicked. I went to the refrigerator and took with me the simplest and cheapest of gadgets. 

As I headed toward the lobby, I passed the two-level elevator, where the lady and two security people were sitting on the floor, reaching through the elevator gap with bits of wire. (I am sure that an elevator mechanic could have solved the problem in ten minutes flat, but I am not sure how long it would have taken them to get there, and how much it would have cost. I suspect both numbers are fairly high.) Clearly our very resourceful security folk  were determined to solve the problem themselves.

I handed them my gadget, told them I wanted it returned when they were done with it, and left.

On my return, one of the team was on duty in the lobby, and I learned that I was a hero. My gadget had enabled the keys to be retrieved and I was thanked enthusiastically! Sometimes becoming a hero is so easy it is ridiculous.

That little hero-maker consists of a round magnet about the size and shape of a quarter or other medium sized coin, glued firmly to a very, very long piece of string. I had made it after dropping my car keys into the exact spot in a car, between the seat and the center block, that is impossible to reach no matter how far back or forward you move the seat. Why I had attached so long a piece of string I have no idea, but it seemed like a good idea at the time – as it turned out to be.

So… do you have a handy magnet attached to any kind of string or cord? Or something similar? And if not… why not? Remember, I made mine not for such drama as car keys dropped beneath an elevator, but for an inconvenience that can happen to almost anyone. It is really easy. Again, all you need is a long piece of string, some kind of super strong glue, and a magnet small enough to get into tight spaces. I think mine came in a pack of six. In order to both preserve the power of the magnet and have it easily reached, it belongs on the side of the refrigerator.

I hope you never need one, but if you do… maybe it would be good to be prepared? Who knows, yours might some day make you, too, a hero.

DianaR

P.S. It’s pretty good for picking up paperclips, screws, etc. without having to bend down, too.

 

A Window to the Past – My Past

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Surprise!

Have you ever experienced an unexpected reminder from the past – from almost thirty years ago? Something that nudged memories long forgotten, and also gave you names you cannot even dredge up from the depths of memory? It is a very strange feeling.

I just had that rather extraordinary experience. I was about to put away the Christmas cards that I had not used this year. They, and older cards, unused in previous years, were in a stack of several of those boxes in which cards come, placed in drawer, at the back, unneeded until next December. At the bottom of the stack were some old cards that I had received sometime in the past. I looked at one, and the names shown in the signature meant nothing to me. Total blank!

I looked at another, and those names I recognized. In addition, they included good wishes for the then coming year … 1990!

Gasp. I had received these cards in 1990 – twenty-seven years ago. And apparently they had been lurking in the back of a drawer, beneath other boxes, all this time. I had not noticed them during any of the past Christmas card sendings. Nor had they reappeared when I sorted all my belongings for the move. 

Chaos

Today I finally had time to sort through them. From some of the signatures I was reminded that I had received them very early in the days of an extremely tumultuous and sometimes traumatic relationship that changed my life. Enough of that to say that it eventually guided me to become an addictions counselor. Later I designed several college degree programs that gave the groundwork to many students who are now themselves doing great work in the addictions counseling field. So I have to say that eventually the outcomes were in some ways very positive.

However, it is the tumultuous-ness and on-and-off-ness of that relationship, the – let’s be honest, the chaos – that leads me to wonder if I even responded to those cards, or if some of those relationships came to an end that year because I had forgotten about them. Did I just abandon those folk? A few are still close enough that we still exchange cards. What, though, of the others? Some, they or their partners, have died in the meantime. Some I don’t recognize. Some I can’t find, even on the internet.

Questions

I can’t help wondering… how did these cards survive? I have sent out and received Christmas cards 27 times since I received these. What has happened to those old friends? However, in some cases… who were those old friends, friends who signed only their first names? Friends whose addresses I apparently knew well enough to not need to know their addresses, and so not keep the envelopes? Did my Christmas card sending descend into chaos in the following chaotic years? Those were years in which, despite the chaos, I managed to complete, after many years, my doctorate in Social Psychology, change my mind about my future career, achieved more than I had hoped for in the ripples sent out via my many students… none of which helps me to figure out how to re-contact those past friends, or even if I should try. Oh yes, one, with an unusual name, I did manage to find and friend on Facebook. But the others… I wonder if, pack-rat as I am despite the move, I might still have an old address book somewhere…

Paper Records Survive

That – and I’ve written about this before – is the advantage of keeping old records that are on real paper. Electronic records disappear when we delete them. The older versions change when we update them. The original versions are gone. On paper a simple slash through an address has the same effect, but the information remains available should the need arise. That’s the next thing I need to find after I’ve done some work on “my next book.” (You may be hearing a lot more about that in the future.)

And you?

In the meantime, do you have “lost” contacts that you wish you could find? Now is a good time to track them down, through the internet or through social media. Since I began writing this I have found one person who helped me a lot back in 1989. I reached out, and wonder if I’ll get a response. I hope so, and I hope that you will be able to make a few worthwhile re-connections too, if they are good ones for you. Just as a nudge… I went looking for one old friend several years after we had lost touch, only to discover that she had died… less than a month before my search. 

I’ll see what I can find. Of course, I am now wishing that I had been a conscientiously regular journal-keeper all that time, instead of only at times of high drama and emotional pain.

What kind of records do you keep? Could you remember all your card-exchanging friends from 27 years ago? The times you had spent with them, the places you had visited? The faces? The help they gave you? It is all coming back to me now – what I will do about it, if anything, remains to be seen.

Do please let me know your thoughts, your stories about “ancient discoveries,” as well as what you would like to see addressed in these blogs.

DianaR

(Incidentally, if you wish to comment, the “Comments” link is above, next to the title.)

Filed Under: Communication
 
About Diana Gardner Robinson