For our final session last week, Greer and I ended it with a question: ‘Where are you gonna be this time next year?’ All of them said, ‘Bend.’ They’re all invited to Bend for an in-person throw-down at LOGE like we were planning on having this year. Beyond that, I noticed every single one of them started off by saying, ‘I hope… ‘
What’s the randomness? This week, K and I finally relaxed by watching good ol’ MI6: Fallout. At one point following an epic fight scene in none other than the men’s room, the character Walker utters, ‘Hope is not a strategy!’
To each of the folks last week, once they wrapped up sharing where they apparently all hoped they’d be in a year, I offered something similar to Walker. More specifically, how I use the word ‘hope’ when what I’m talking about I can’t control. For the things I can, which to some extent includes where I’ll be a year from now, I choose a more empowering verb. ‘I will,’ for instance. Because, after all, hope isn’t a plan.
Oh my gosh, this week has been awesome. Despite the fact I should have been at LOGE Camps in Bend and instead I’m sitting home at Katie’s desk logging in remotely to a week’s worth of sessions I’m leading with Greer Van Dyck, yeah… it’s been awesome. I feel like I’ve amassed a year’s worth of randomness. Wait, does that mean they’re not random?
Whatever, heh. This week I wanted to throw out something Barett shared during his presentation: Fractals.
His presentation was about engaging with the Catholic church to initiate a conservation movement at a scale perhaps of which humanity has never witnessed. It’s a bold vision, to say the least. Props to Barett. Getting back to fractals, though, he threw out the concept as a means of planting. As in, literally planting plants. The reasons he mentioned for why it could work were compelling:
- It’s easy to estimate cost and order materials
- So it’s easy to prototype
- So the process of actually planting stuff then is easily taught
- Which means the maintenance is also, well, easier
As I chew on it, I realize that in addition to the literal applications like his, there are likely far more figurative ways to use the concept of fractals (which is really just repetition) when thinking about how to do things. And yeah, I may be asking Katie (our family gardener) about how to use fractals when, well, designing our landscaping…
Yesterday I was talking to Tyrhee Moore for a panel I’m moderating next week. He was sharing the story of how he founded Soul Trak. Buried in the narrative was a word he used: Obligation. I thought that was cool, so I asked him about it. How did his feeling a sense of obligation to kids and the outdoors drive him to do everything it took to create something like his non-profit from nothing?
Turns out, for him, it made all the difference.
That word stood out for me because I’ve thought about it myself, in my own experience. As a boss, a feeling of obligation to those who called me that to champion them, to challenge them, and to keep them on track. Even when it meant making tough decisions, having hard conversations. As a husband, a feeling of obligation to my wife to be supportive, to call her on her shit (in reality this never happens–it’s always the other way around), and to listen.
I’m sure you get the point. Instead of me rambling on, maybe take a second to think of that word, too. Obligation. What does it mean to you?
ps – the awesome photo is by a buddy of mine I met back in my REI photography days, Clayton Boyd. The photo look is all his. The expression is all Tyrhee…
I’ve talked before about this random French cartoon, Minuscule. Sefton was watching it again this week in the living room while I was making espresso in the kitchen. Here’s where the randomness comes in. Wait for it…
I’ve been working on a session for an upcoming retreat I call, ‘Creating Your Legacy.’ One of the questions we’ll talk about is around this concept of what’s the thing for which each of the folks wants to be remembered. Umm, so what does that have to do with French bugs? Admittedly, nothing really. Except I caught the soundtrack of whichever short episode S was watching. It was Bach’s Prelude in C-major.
Here’s the randomness: Talk about legacy, about being remembered.
In 1977, NASA launched Voyager 1 and 2 into space. Onboard was a time-capsule of sorts, a snapshot of human legacy, in the form of a Golden Record. Images of nearly everything imaginable, sounds from all around the world, greetings in just about every language on earth. Music. Particularly, Bach’s C-major prelude as performed by Glenn Gould.
Hearing it also reminded me about one of my favorite two-minutes of film. The final short film* in the movie 32 Short Films About Glenn Gould. You’ve probably heard Bach’s prelude before. There’s a reason it’s considered a piece of our shared legacy. If you haven’t, you might enjoy it.
* If you only click one link, that’s the one to click…