I'll Think of Something

I'm exasperating.  I've been told that, anyway.  A long time ago, when I was running a technical certificate program for the University of California Santa Cruz Extension, I was the most exasperating, frustrating direct-report that my Dean had, according to him.  My crime?  Apparently, my stock response to every impossible dilemma was a deep breath and a determined "I'll think of something."  At the height of his exasperation, he told me that he wanted to live long enough to hear me admit that something was impossible. "Hmm," sez I, my standard non-committal response, whilst thinking "Good luck with that!"  I don't know if he has passed to his eternal rest yet, but I have some bad news for him - I haven't stopped saying it.   

And believing it.

Now, please understand: I am NOT saying that I can change the course of history or the externally-generated circumstances of my own life through sheer force of will.  I have dozens of friends and acquaintances who are beating themselves up because they couldn't manifest wealth in the midst of the biggest depression since 1930, or they can't change the course of hurricanes. [No, I'm not making up that latter.]  

It's not all about you, grasshopper.  Or, as I tell people, "There may be a god - who knows? - but it for sure ain't you."  Being an ordinary caring, loving, striving human being is a fine destiny.  You don't need to be the lord of life and death, heaven and earth, to be happy.  What you need to do is do your darndest to stay on top of the waves, and after you have done your very best, let go of the outcome.  That is easier said than done and not the subject of today's chat.

I just want to focus on the "doing your darndest" part.  My Dean told me that the buildings were underutilized, so I started researching and brainstorming and trying things out.  My new lineup of classes included Sunday, lunchtime, late afternoon and hybrid classes. Revenues soared.  When the main campus wanted X and we needed Y, my let's-negotiate spinal reflex drove him nuts.  No means no, Victoria.  Except that I never actually believe that.  [I have learned to moderate my spinal reflex with family members.  That's a different area of life.  Sometimes, the most loving response to No, is OK. A topic for another day.]  

I found this Viking ship somewhere (Pinterest? Facebook?) and would be happy to attribute it, if I could.  It sits on the wall facing me as I work, to remind me that when one door slams, I just need to find another one. And another one.  And another one.  And if they are all locked, climb to another floor.  Or stay home and wait for the EMT's.  

If the wind dies, take to the oars.  If the wind turns into a hurricane, batten down the hatches, tarp the open deck, set a sea anchor, and breathe.  Pray or invoke reiki.  No hurricane lasts forever.  If you end up on a foreign shore, recon first, before you disembark.  When you know the area is relatively safe, get out, find food, make friends with the natives, stay clear-eyed.  Keep thinking of something until you can't think any more, then ask friends to brainstorm with you.  When all ideas fail, it's batten down and breathe.  Take a nap or a day off, then go back to thinking of something.  Go back to the oars.