June - Ducks Aim Higher?

The sun is more prominent now. The trees and grass are green with vigor, the skies are full of white, fluffy clouds and birds are now flying for recreation, rather than migration. In Minnesota, holding out for this kind of weather seems to last forever. Now that it's here, we all have a new lust for life. We wash and wax our cars, mow our lawns and trim our bushes with a smile. Nothing can bring us down.

But today, I saw something that I have had a hard time wiping from my mind. I know it happens hundreds of times a day, all around the world, but for some reason, death is always going to feel like a premature ending to me. No matter what creature goes through it, I feel sympathy and I always carry a small, dark cloud with me whenever I see it.

On my morning drive, I saw the smallest family of ducks I have ever seen. Not small in numbers; small in stature. I have seen many families of ducks and geese. I've watched them emerge from the tall grass for the first time, full of curiosity and excitement. And this was the tiniest family of ducks I have EVER seen. I don't know if their size was the result of an early birth or if I have truly never seen them so young before. Regardless, the family of eight or nine was walking, happily along side of the freeway. For some reason, they decided the grass on the other side of the road was greener.

The side they were leaving was home to a small pond, plenty of grass and a mixture of sun and shade. But for some reason, they were drawn to the other side of the road. Mom led the way. With every car's passing, the mother jumped back, protecting her babies with her own body. They attempted to cross numerous times while I watched them. The odds were stacked heavily against them.

Though I never did see whether the ducks made it or not, my mind keeps showing me mixed visions of disaster and victory. What drew the ducks to the other side of the road is unclear, but I keep thinking about how this sample of life mimics the way I have lived my own life. Safety and security is boring. I know of a hundred different times in my life when I had a decent job that paid my bills, and then found myself pushing the envelope for something greater. I have always felt like I was meant for bigger and better things, and I likely will not stop chasing bigger goals...regardless of the risk.

I can say that every change I have made in my life has led to greater things. But, many of the steps between these changes were dangerous and for some onlookers, may have seemed unreasonable. I am a big picture thinker. When I see a next step that can lead me to my bigger goal, I am more apt to take it, in spite of the risks attached to it. Could it be that these ducks were looking at the big picture, in spite of the risks?

I sit in my office, half focused on work and half on this family of ducks. I hope they survived their crossing and I hope they made a move toward their bigger picture.

Highlights and shadows...

January is more dark than light. The snow on the ground is all too often the only bright spot in any given day. The skies are gloomy and the sun occasionally finds a way to peak between the houses long enough to make you squint. This week, it has been below zero every day and whether the sun is shining or not, none of us was interested in leaving the warm confines of the house. If it wasn't for our jobs, we wouldn't leave the house at all. We'd drink water and order delivery until spring, if our bank account would support it.

During these times I pity the dog the most. He hates the cold. It freezes snow to his feet and it chaps his tummy, where his fur is the thinnest. I wouldn't blame him if he just started squatting in the basement. Having to go to the bathroom outside in this kind of weather almost resembles torture. He looks at me as if to say "When is spring supposed to be here?" I get the sense that if we up and moved to California, he would be no contestant to it at all. Normally, he hates anything that is out of the daily routine, but any escape from this frozen suburb would surely peak his interests enough for him to consider playing along with little debate.

This time of year, the sun comes up around 7:30 and sets around 4. We spend our entire day inside, so it is commonplace to not see the sun at all during the week. Our energy drains like a solar panel on the dark side of the moon. We spend our weekends trying to regain our strength and fight again come Monday. It's a sad situation that wastes a weekend as a bridge between the work weeks. I believe life's meaning is not found Monday through Friday between 8 and 4:30. At some point, this weekly psychosis will need to be adjusted into something more accommodating to a truly significant life.