My favorite walk along the Willamette River winds through a park that is home to a gaggle of geese on an extended staycation. The city never planned for them to remain through the end of one year and into the next, so there was no budget for removing biological debris during the winter season. Consequently, I’ve learned to do the goose poop dance.
To the casual observer, it must look like I’m engaged in an alternate version of the cha-cha—or hopscotch for the aged. I prefer the cha-cha. I step to the right, mince a step forward, then go to the left, hop to the right, and try not to lose my balance. One sure step ahead, then I’m back to dancing around dried, semi-dried, and fresh logs and plops. I really don’t want that stuff stuck to my soles.
It doesn’t do any good to curse the poop. I could rail against the geese but shockingly, they don’t give a rip. So, I adapt and keep moving forward to find patches of unsullied pavement or grass upon which to step. I know where I’m going. The river view is the payoff for this labor.
Does any of this resemble a workday, dodging piles of crap you don’t want to step in? Being nimble allows you to move lightly around the messes while you advance toward your goal. Wishing the crud wasn’t there is useless because it exists. Hurling invectives toward those who create it, similarly futile.
It’s common but unhelpful to focus on what we don’t like and then look around for the culprits. There are usually plenty of candidates. How well the blame game work in taking you closer to what you want? Focusing solely on poo diverts you away from where you want to go. So you have to be clear on your direction while avoiding the debris—otherwise it’s hard to get back on course.
If you find yourself unhappily stumbling over—or into—unbidden gunk, here are some hints to help you recalibrate:
Make sure you know what your true north is. Take a moment to focus on what you do want. Don’t make the assumption that the absence of what you don’t want is actually a direction.
Think of your progress like that of a sailboat. When a boat tacks toward the wind and fills the sails, it gains momentum. On a good, windy day, the captain tacks frequently, and has the thrill of being tipped close to the water while moving rapidly. It’s exciting! Maneuvering a rudder doesn’t take the boat off its ultimate course, even though it might take a bunch of zig zags to get there. Think of the adjustments you make as part of your journey—necessary and perhaps fun.
You might as well enjoy the trip. Grumbling doesn’t make anything go faster or better but being more carefree could. If the image of doing a dance around flotsam gives you a sense of lightness, hum along and dodge with rhythm.
There is no perfect path. Undesirable poop or detritus may show up. So get over it and get on with it, because you’re mightier than any of those distractions. Move to the left, mince to the right, hop forward, and cha-cha-cha!
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