For Coordinated Action – String the Route

For Coordinated Action – String the Route

I am a ready-fire-aim kind-of a woman. I know where I am going. I always have a large-scale plan. It drives my action. But it lives in my head and I figure out the route on the fly. I always get to where I am going, but sometimes the journey is longer than I hoped.

It is like this “10 mile” three-day backpacking trip we did with our nine and seven-year-old kids, and 4-month-old dog. We had a plan – cover 10 miles over three days. This is not a lot for us. Two miles the first day. Four miles the second. Then another four miles the third. Only we pieced together the estimated route from two different hikes. We bought maps of course. But failed to look at them and “string” the route before we left.

On day two, after a lot of elevation and about 4 miles of walking we should be close, but we were in the middle of nowhere. I turned to Neil and mouthed, “How much farther?” He shrugged and pulled out the maps. We found about where we were, then put the compass string on the map to measure the twists and turns of the trail. We had about five miles to go.

“Five miles!” We were nearly out of water – no more streams along the ridge trail we were on. We had snacks enough for a 10-mile hike total – not a 10-mile day. Our kids had never hiked 10 miles in a day. And the poor baby dog was so tired – probably wondering what the heck are these people thinking!

This was a ready-fire-aim experience. We had everything we needed – we just had to conserve water and manage our snacks. We made it. The kids and dog were amazing. Heck, we found wild strawberries along the route! The lake we slept at that night was such a reward. An advance plan would have been nice, but knowing the hike was 19 miles – almost double our distance – we might not have gone. Our coordinated effort – bringing a map, looking at it, managing our snacks and water, foraging, having all we needed on our backs, and having practiced roughing it for nearly 30 years – allowed us to realize our goal.

All around the world groups of people are building amazing futures out of the rubble of the past – they are taking mistakes made by some and using it as fuel for a new way. The coordinated effort is happening. Women, people of color, people of all genders, and humble men, are on the fore front of the movement. Yet, to fuel our efforts, and feel camaraderie on the journey, we must name the plan and string the route.

Stringing the route looks like this:

  • Have a final goal in mind: A safe and just world, where people find their place, and can significantly contribute in right relationship with all things. This is mine. Yours may be different, yet have similar qualities at heart.
  • Talk to your kids about the world you hope to see – read books, watch movies, share articles, and attend events that speak of this goal.
  • Talk to your friends and family about this world. Ask them their opinions of a world like this. What are their ideas?
  • Recognize disparity when it happens. Speak about it. Work to change it.
  • Examine and understand your actions. Work to be kind, understanding, and able to hold the line.
  • Notice others that are working toward a similar goal. Acknowledge them. Show gratitude for their commitment.
  • Practice what you need to build this world: skillful conflict, discerning what to put energy toward, listening, and coordinated action. Help others build these skills.

These are some of the things I practice daily, weekly, and over my lifetime on my way to the more beautiful world my heart knows is possible. What do you practice?

Everyone has their own way of doing things – this is the beauty of individuality. The big change that is happening is through coordinated effort. You are already contributing – take a minute to acknowledge yourself.

Now, flesh out your plan – not an idea – but a robust plan, and then talk with others. Discover how very similar we are at heart, even if our approach is slightly different.

This coordinated effort is happening all over the world. If the news won’t tell this story, we can tell it at coffee shops, on the phone, through text messages, at dinner parties, in schools, churches, and everywhere we go.

When we plan, converse, and practice, we make our dreams possible.

We do not need to be in the same room – or even country – to arrive at the same place. We simply need to recognize our efforts – we are enough, build the skills, train our children, and speak what we hope to see into reality. Naysayers beware.

If you need help figuring out your plan – invite perspective. We love helping others define and build skills for the journey.

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The Breaking Point – Account for the Ego

The Breaking Point – Account for the Ego

“Sometimes the body keeps the ego in check.” Andrew Middlebrook

It was a hot July day. We had just finished our first climb. He was rappelling. I was sitting in the shade of 100-foot trees, planning the next route. A few moments later – ones that I will play over and over in my mind – I began coordinating my husband’s rescue.

We had both been climbing for over 25 years. We had taught climbing. We had guided people up mountains all over the world. How could this happen to us?

Technically, one end of the rope was too short and the other too long. For 10 years, we have bought bi-weave ropes. At the end of last year, we bought a single pattern rope with a middle mark. At the top of the climb, he was looking for the weave to change.

We were at our local crag. We had climbed the route four times. There was plenty of rope – a 70-meter rope for a 100 ft. climb. About 10 ft. of rope was left over on each end when we were swapping laps.

Last year in mid-August, 15 miles into the back country, we climbed Mt. Goode, the most technically complicated approach and descent that either of us had ever done – the climbing part was easy. We walked out sore, but safe.

I had the ground to trust his skills. There had never been a reason not to. We always came home safe. Yet, in July, after a 50-foot ground fall, he was carried out in a litter – to an ambulance – to a trauma center. Alive, but clearly not safe.

We teach leadership and communication to organizations and people all over the world. We get praise from many at work and in our community for being life, climbing, and business partners – “How do you do it?” they ask. We communicate. We check our egos. We know we are fallible. We understand we are human just like every one of the individuals we know and work with. And, yet, we all have our “things.”

I am bossy with climbing. It’s my razzle dazzle. I give advice on gear placement, systems, and route choices. My partner is the mountain climber. He’s a genius on glaciers and with route finding.

He’s also a man. Our culture says he is supposed to know better. I am a woman. I must fight to be heard. I must prove my knowledge to be respected. At a crag or in the mountains, people defer to him as the leader. Even though on rock, I am the subject matter expert.

So why, on that day, did I choose not to be bossy? The crag was crowded. Did I not want to emasculate him by giving advice?

I looked. I saw two ropes reaching a ledge. Ropes get stuck on ledges – happens all the time. You fix it on the way down. I assumed he was pulling up more rope to even out the ends.

When we climb with our kids we always check safety. Always. This time, even though he sensed something was up as there was a lot of rope out, he chose not to call out, “Are both ends down?” He wondered, “Is there a knot in the other end?” but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to bother me. He didn’t want my advice.

I chose not to say something because I trusted him. And his experience. All things indicated I could – the gear, our communication, the easy climb, the beautiful day.

As mountain people, being strong and bold is vital – or we would never get out of the parking lot. But identifying this way can get in the path of safety. It can thwart our respect for our own fallibility. Our ego gets hung up on the words strong and bold and forgets that we are also fragile and dependent. That these too are gifts of being human.

On Mt. Goode, the terrain and remoteness reminded us that we were dependent on each other – our combined skills and the practice of being partners. We had disagreements on the mountain. There was no choice but to talk about them.

At Index, we did not voice what was in our heads. I didn’t want to be bossy – like I knew better than my experienced partner. He didn’t want to seem inexperienced – like he needed my help.

In the span of our lives, we are all dependent. On other people – at the beginning and end of our life, on creatures and plants for food, and trees for oxygen. We often forget this is a symbiotic relationship. A tacit pact of accountability.

Accountability is uncomfortable. We must let go of our own importance and remember our connection. We must be grateful for what we receive and give back in equal measure. We must struggle to be humble.

I did not say something. I did not hold up my part of the accountability pact – the trust of partnership. For that, I am truly sorry. Life is a gift. It is fragile. The ego can withstand a fall, the body cannot.

Now it’s October. As I watch my husband roll around in his wheel chair – still unable to walk – I tear up. I am reminded – we are human – bold and strong, fragile and dependent.

The discomfort of revealing this story to the world reminds me of my humanness. Watching him struggle to get over an uneven part of a street with wheels spinning reminds me of our dependency. Waiting for a grown man to take his first steps is humbling.

I still trust my partner, our skills and experience, and the systems. We will climb again. But next time, my voice will be heard. I am accountable to balance being bold and strong AND fragile and dependent. I will remember. I won’t ever forget.

May we all be safe in our chosen activities.