Winter Prep . . . and the lesson of doing . . . to learn you "can do!"
Three cords of Mulberry and Locust. Not the best, but pretty good stuff never-the-less! (3/4 cord per rack) In the background you can see our chicken coop and the "high tunnel."
"I'm glad you said that!" exclaimed a recent trainee. We were talking about using our IMPACT Model to work with organizations, and I had just told the trainees that, far from being a typical entretreneural-type-ready to jump in with both feet, I tend to be a risk-avoider, cautious and tentative about what risks I take.
No, the trainee wasn't glad I told them about my self-doubt and slow-adopting stance, what he was glad I said was that "sometimes you have to do something so that it is hard to deny that you can do it." Which brings me to processing firewood . . . .
It's that time. Time to get everything buttoned down before the "snow flies" in my part of the world. This means, among other tasks, getting the firewood pre-positioned, stacked, and ready to feed the stoves and fireplace that helps heat our home. So yesterday, my 11 year old son and I stacked firewood onto our porch (see below).
For my son, stacking the rack full was a "can't do." He just couldn't imagine that we would be able to stack the entire rack full. Despite this, he hung in there until I released him with the job about 85% complete--and finished it up on my own. (Story of how a "power struggle" almost led to dire consequences.)
I can't blame him. This whole "wood thing" is a lesson in things I couldn't do at one time.
Another cord under cover. Mack helped fill it. I topped it off. This is mostly Maple. Okay, but not great.
"Couldn't do," I say, because I didn't grow up in a home where running chain saws, log splitters, or stacking firewood was part of the culture. No, I grew up on a college campus, cloistered away from such folderol. It's not that it wasn't in my heritage, in fact, my Dad, felled, transported, cut up, split, and stacked 9 cords of wood - 9 cords! - to get his high school class ring--and he did it by hand with mules, chains, and an axe. Maybe, that's why I grew up on a college campus and why I had little experience with processing firewood.
Today, running my Stihl saws (story about a broken screw and getting a second saw) ) the log splitter, and processing the winter supply is routine. But there was a time where I didn't know it would be. That the thought of trying to use or maintain a chainsaw or splitter seemed daunting if not possible. What has changed? My experience. But that only comes after one musters the courage to try -- to do the thing before knowing you can do it. To take that leap of faith.
All Locust in the garage. Miserable to process because of the thorns but good wood--all ready for the snow!
So it is with becoming a consultant . . . and with each new project where you walk in an expert with experience in other organizations . . . but a complete novice with this new culture. You must move into the unknown, not knowing what you can do, then learning what you can achieve. The repetition of this process leads you to trust that even when you don't know what you can do in a given situation, this learning has taught you that you can do!
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