90-to-40: Back to my future, too.

Day 46:

At 2:32pm - the exact time of my birth - on October 24th, 2013, I will turn 40. In that moment, I will probably pause briefly and look around me with the hope that a uniformed messenger will appear with an aged, tattered envelope in hand. You know, like "Back to the Future 3" when Doc scheduled a Western Union letter to be delivered to Marty at a precise date and time in the future.

I know that universal messages don't come to us with such theatrics. (Drama... yes. Theatrics... not usually.)  I know it won't be that clear, but a boy can dream, right?

My journey is more like the first "Back to the Future" where Marty and Doc had to harness the power of lightning to propel Marty back to 1985. I'll be speeding toward my goals as my partner is frantically swinging from cables on a clock tower and trying to help me capture the power of a fleeting lightning strike. (He is good like that).

There are a lot of parallels between those movies and where I am in my life right now. I feel as though I'm zooming across space and time, correcting things that have gone awry in the past, and being mindful of how my actions today will alter my future. If understand that my future depends on it.

However, instead of a flux capacitor, we will have a ticket on a 747, the clock tower will be the sun casting the shadow from a palm tree, and rather than going back in time, we will be looking ahead.

Somehow, though, I still believe that there will be that envelope from the past that reveals a plot twist for my future. I believe that with all my heart. And... I'm ready. I am ready to move into this next decade of my life at full speed. I want to leave flaming tire tracks and disappear into a cloud of dust.

It is like when Doc was showing Marty the Delorean for the first time and said, "If my calculations are correct, when it hits 88, you're going to see some serious shit." I am ready to see some seriously awesome shit it MY future. 

I'm ready for 40. I'm ready for 88 mph. I'm ready for MY future! 

90-to-40: Tread on me

Day 47:

We don't mean to walk on people, but we all do it. Sometimes we stomp people like bugs. Sometimes our personalities are so large - and we are so focused on our strides - that we trample all over people and don't even know it. Then there are the times that we just get lost in the dark and tromp right across the people who mean the most to us. Our intentions aren't always bad, but it happens.

It also happens TO us. When the shoe is on the other back, it doesn't feel so hot, and no one likes a footprint on their back. In fact, we take offense to being stepped on at work, by our family members, and by our significant others. Nothing will evoke an intense fight or flight response more than being stepped on by the people closest to us.

A friend from many years ago once told me, "If you lay down on the ground, you're going to get stepped on." It's true. We have to stand up for ourselves. Nothing good can come of allowing others to walk all over us.

Or... can it? Is there a way to be stepped on and not feel resentment? Yes... I believe there is.

I talked earlier about intentions. Many times "walking all over people" is not intentional. These "heavy steppers" are just trying to get someplace. They are often distracted or their attention is focused elsewhere. 

What if we learned how to be stepped on appropriately?  What if... we lifted others by boosting them up on our shoulders so they can see a broader horizon. What if we placed ourselves strategically and locked our hands together and caught their foot to help them over the wall? 

When all of those people are stepping on us to get up the ladder, maybe it is because our job is to BE the ladder? Maybe by raising them higher, we become their most valuable tool. Maybe... it takes great wisdom and experience to know the difference between being stepped on and raising others higher than they could go on their own. 

Would we still consider ourselves "stepped on?" Or... have we actually become stronger than those who do not tread lightly? 

It seems to me that the stairs will still be there long after the climber has come and gone.