Tiny Wonders & Bold Moves
What we suffer when we lose the forest for the timber.
I have a tendency to hold an unbalanced ideal about change, growth, and success. Maybe you do too. I think it’s about big bold actions and deep, explosive charges and transformation. The eureka moment, the ah-ha epiphany, the divine download in an altered state.
Truth: change can be big, loud, bold, like a firm, corrective nudge from the gods, or a coach.
And, some of the greatest achievements are the result of tiny, nearly imperceptible, accumulated wonders, as much as they are the result of lightning-strike moments.
Waking and finding even a blink of appreciation for the way the sun is approaching a corner of the wall through a crack in the shade.
Taking one footstep towards your morning piss and fully feeling your barefoot in all its musculature and bone plant into the floor.
Participating in a small activity that fulfills an untended part of you.
Put it another way:
In Germany in the 1800s, logging was big business. To systematize and monetize the forest, planners divided the forest into two categories: the trees became timber and anything else became underbrush. They valued the former, and eradicated the latter to make room for more timber.
The unintended consequence was a new term, called forest death. Because the forest died. They learned that without the “underbrush,” the forest’s whole nutrient cycle broke.
We do ourselves a great likewise disservice in our own growth and nutrient cycle. We prioritize the big and the bold, the loud and the leap without nurturing the small moments of awe and presence. And we suffer our own forest death.
What can you do today to locate and magnify the underbrush of your life and experience?
Art credit: “Karuizawa” by Sekino Junichiro (Japanese print)