the ambience of summer swallows
We rode early today to escape the rising heat of early summer. Riding over the river I was entranced by the spiraling dance of hundreds of summer swallows who nest under the bridge. They were out in the early morning air in a frenzy of chasing. The sensation of their swift sallies and swoops, a mass of movement, dominated the river and shifted my awareness to the world outside my head. How easy it would have been to be lost in my mental chatter and missed it altogether.
Three bay horses loiter, muzzles hanging over the fence, communing with the morning traffic, trying to be sociable.
It is so common for me to be lost in my head ruminating. Sometimes I am doing useful thinking and planning. But oftentimes I am just allowing my chatterbox brain to prattle on. The rest of the world, what’s happening, is lost to me. Whatever I am missing-in-action thinking about had better be darn important if it means that I am not aware of the world around me.
The breeze is coming from the east; that’s why it is such a warm morning, the wind bringing the heat of the valley instead of the chill of the ocean.
Sometimes, of course, I am doing useful things inside my head: analyzing, planning, composing, figuring out. Sometimes though, once those things are done, I find myself using mips to try to remember them. In his book Getting Things Done, David Allen proposes that it is key for us to keep lists, to write things down, just so we don’t use our precious awareness fussing about remembering things. Writing things down frees our mind for more valuable tasks and frees it to be aware of what’s going on around us. (Writing things down is particularly challenging on the bike—therefore the recording device in the future.)
Five stark dead sycamores stand, their white trunks alight against the deep green of the willows along the river.
We can also distract ourselves from what’s really happening in our organizations with the stories we constantly tell ourselves. Are we really noticing that the sales numbers are static from quarter to quarter? Are we really aware of what is happening? Or are we so busy each quarter telling ourselves the story of why, what went wrong this time, that we don’t pay attention to what is really happening. If we are not aware of what is actually going on, there is no way we can find a resolution. A effective new path cannot be found if you don’t know where you are, if instead you are inside a story you keep telling yourself.
An elderly farmer in his ancient, well-kept farm truck grins and waves as I swoosh by, his bright cheeks aglow with recognition. He must have previously noticed us plying the valley roads.
So I’ll keep trying to pay better attention. Be aware. Live in mindfulness. Do my work in the real world, not just in my head.
The deep rattling caw of an unseen crow roils over head causing a vibration in my belly.
