The air was still and hung heavy. The rain had ceased only a half hour earlier and my dogs were eager to get going on their walk. I stopped and sniffed at the sky, wanting to take in the clean. Memories from my childhood and the smells of rain, wet earth, and surrounding fireplaces took me away for just a moment. Then, as if sound could be in slow motion, the flapping of wings caught me completely off guard. It seemed so close, I thought for a second I might need to duck. My eyes quickly scanned looking for the source and soon rested on a hawk flying close, about five feet above my head.
The awe I felt stopped me dead in my tracks. The sound was incredible; I have never experienced anything like it. I was so caught up and, interestingly enough,
so were my dogs. It lasted only an instant but the impact lasted several days. I wondered why he, the hawk, had cruised so near to us, so close to the homes in the area. And why did it seem like slow motion? I can still hear the flapping of the wings.
Time had stopped.
There are instances when a split second changes everything, when you see more clearly than you did before, and the realization hits that anything can happen at any moment. It could be very good or it could be incredibly bad, usually it falls right in the middle.
Our days are typically right in the middle.
Occasionally, good happens that keeps us motivated to drive us on, occasionally bad happens that drags us back a step or two but also a great motivator. That happens to be life, even though you may strive to make the right move strategically for your business, for your boss, for your candidate, for your hiring manager, for your family, for yourself.
Sometimes it comes down to a flip of the coin and the choice of others. The only things one controls are personal actions and reactions. That brings it home, to the place of residence, a place where hawks fly low and time slows enough that one can recognize its passing but fast enough to move on to the next place. When we are aware of our own weaknesses and use our own strengths, then we own
the daily battles we face, the life we tame.
What d’ya think? Is it possible to contain it all, all in one place, taking the bad alongside the good, staring into the eyes of one's own hurt locker? The answer is a resounding yes
for we do it every day, though rarely in slow-mo or five feet above it all. The smarts you hold and the instincts you listen to are the armor you bear. And everyone’s motivation is different and personal. And, oddly enough, evolving.