Focusing the Lens of the Mind

A mask on the wall of our hotel room in Puerto Vallarta

A mask on the wall of our hotel room in Puerto Vallarta

The human brain is such a willing companion.  It will engage with whatever is set before it.  If you want to worry, it will worry with all of its heart.  If you want to create horrible scenarios, it complies.   If you want to create something that has never existed before, it bows to your desire.

I have been observing my brain at work lately (or not at work).  We took a three-week trip that included babysitting grandkids, teaching two workshops, doing our taxes, and then skipping off to Mexico for a week.  Doing so many different things was interesting.  My brain became like a camera lens bringing certain things into focus and fading out other things as I went along.  As we left our snowy home and the daily tasks of splitting and hauling wood, that scene drifted totally out of focus by the time we left Minnesota.  I could bring it back, but didn’t need to.  The house and chores were suspended for the time being.  Caring for Kayden (4) and Mackenna (2) took precedence, and so the zoom lens focused on them totally until it was time to leave.  By the time we left Nebraska that scene went out of view, and suddenly I was preparing for the workshops and client.

In Mexico, everything disappeared but the sun and the sand and my sore feet from walking so much with winter feet suddenly slapped into sandals.

There is a lesson to be learned here.  We have to be intentional with our inner lens.  It (the brain) is not the one deciding which subject gets our energy and time and brain power.  We decide.

Sometimes it is situational.  For example, I headed home with the images of cold frames and dark soil and new seedlings teaming in my head, but we drove up our driveway and saw that not only had the snow not disappeared in three weeks, we had another foot lying around.  The paths were impassable.  My picnic table is invisible beneath the drifts.  My greenhouse goodies are in the tool shed—so far away!  And damn, we needed some wood split.

But sometimes it is about discipline.  I must intentionally aim my lens.  I haven’t been very good at that lately.  I’ve let the many projects we have on the table cause a kind of schizophrenia.  I feel disorganized, unsure of my direction, and taken hostage by a do-list filled with too many things I simply don’t want to do.  My greatest instrument is my brain/mind, but I have to train it or it quickly becomes like a naughty puppy-destroying property and lifting its leg in weird places.

I’m up for the challenge.  I have several things I want to regain control of.  One is my house.  Living in a one room cabin is a challenge especially when you have multiple businesses going and stuff everywhere.  The other thing I want to turn my attention and my intention toward is building my own workshops and teaching opportunities here in the north woods.  I absolutely love my work, but am not sure how to go about building a base here.  I have the space now—the Many Kites Center, and I’m getting to know so many great people who I know will benefit from all the things I am taking to my workshops in other places.  So . . .  intention . . .  chart the path, focus the lens, and go.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

One of the workshops I teach is about how to manage our own brains . . . guess I will be my own best student  for now.  Long ago I realized that I teach what I most want to learn.

In the meantime, it is snowing outside again although this week marks the official beginning of spring.  Arghhh.  My brother Jeff came over to help shovel out and get the wood splitter going.  “You should have stayed another month in Mexico,” he said.  No kidding!

 

 

 

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Focusing the Lens of the Mind — 3 Comments

  1. Maybe I should facilitate a strategic planning workshop to help you chart your path. Its a logical,linear process with a creative, curvaceous outcome. Doesn’t it sound like fun? Love ya, B

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