On my recent return flight from the states I saw something that would forever change my flying experience. It happened at that time in a flight when passengers fed; slip off into their own private space. Engrossed in books, movies, music or relaxing in the place of reverie all is quiet bar the sound of the engine wrapping itself around the plane. When suddenly, a short, loud, delightful burst of serious, belly laughter fills the air. With silence broken a number of disconcerted bodies shift and settle. But not for long, as a few moments later another loud burst of laughter escapes. Straight from the belly it is deep, rich and male.
Fascinated I watch the tree surgeon very carefully and systematically fell a group of tall sycamore trees. First the lower branches are removed leaving footholds to the upper canopy. Standing ready to feed branches into the chipper I am bewildered as more and more greenery falls to the ground. We are lucky as it is one of those brilliant blue days. Hot, sunny with not a cloud in the sky.
Perched on the edge of my garden chair, I lean over to get a closer look at the multitude of tiny ants busying around my feet. Their movements seem so haphazard, going in one direction, switching to another, marching in wide curves than staccato back and forth movements, popping down a crack in the payment, popping right back up and then more circling. Each ant seemingly involved only in their journey as from my overhead view I don’t see one connecting with another. Nor from my perspective are they working as a group, just a bunch of tiny dots frantically running around.
I am having an exquisite moment. Sitting in my courtyard the sun shines brightly as every bit of me relaxes into it’s warmth. My eyes drawn to a ladybird traveling down the handle of a spoon resting in the leftover milk of my cereal bowl. Fascinated, everything else fades further away as I follow the little guy walking purposely (or so it seems to me) down towards what must appear as a white lake at the end of the silver path. I think maybe it is thirsty or curious but before I can take my reflection deeper the little traveler slides the last bit and lands into the lake ending up on it’s back with minute legs (many of them) kicking furiously. Without hesitation I dip my finger into the milk and coming up from underneath rescue the explorer. Flipping and regaining his demeanor now settles on my thumb and as I watch, washes each leg in turn. I have to wonder if he likes the taste of the milk and is grateful for a drink.
Many of my clients seek help for lack of confidence. Often I hear “If I had confidence I would or I could…” They believe that once they “get” this elusive confidence then life will change and opportunities arise.
While it is true confidence helps us to settle better in the driver’s seat and we are more open to new opportunities and challenges, it is futile to believe confidence is not something you “just get,” like an apple picked off a tree. It is a process of growth. The more we do something, the more our confidence grows.
Jogging through the woods I enjoyed the beauty of freshly fallen snow, with its’ deep silence, bright reflection and distinct crunchy sound underfoot. Still snowing, the winter landscape laid totally undisturbed except for a single line of footprints made by an earlier visitor. Thinking it safer, I decided to follow the trail of one who had gone before me.