Can You See It?

I stood on the beach, contemplating my journey into Intentional Optimism.

It’s tempting to think of it as a solo pursuit. Too easy, actually. It is my bent, to go it alone. "You're not the boss of me," or "I can do it myself," and all that.

The problems with that line of thinking are myriad… including loneliness, isolation, and stagnation. Just one idea generator? Only one perspective? Only one navigator? Hmmm... but it's so tempting.

I know my curiosity will take me far. Celebrating wonder will certainly make the trip more enjoyable, but going solo means I miss out on so many things. I'm confident in my quest, I know my ultimate destination is worth the journey.

I don't want to go it alone.

It took courage to answer the question “why,” and was the first step toward my vision of a better future. Responding to that desire for something different caused me to raise my gaze and look farther afield.  Toward the horizon. I can see, sometimes clearly, other times just shadows or glimpses, but I can see something out there.  I can see other boats on the water, other beaches or islands - all completely worth the effort it takes to get there.

But can I do it alone? Should I do it alone?

That depends.  

How big is my boat? Is it small, lightweight and easy to maneuver by myself?  Or is it bigger, heavier, requiring more hands to steady the wheel, the sail, the ropes? I could tackle a small vision on my own, but I can SEE the bigger one. That's the one I want.

Standing on the sand, I consider the surf.  If the waves breaking on the shore are big enough to prevent me from pushing my boat out where I can get in and take control, then I’m sunk before I start! 

Now what?  ‘Cause I could use some help.

There are always others walking the shoreline in search of something. Some are seeking shells, others solitude, but some - like me - are seeking something new, different, better. So as they wander up, or by, I start inviting them to join me. I’m always surprised by those who don’t even look up. As if they hear nothing, see nothing. How is that possible? Even those who just shake their heads have acknowledged the presence of a sailboat lying in the sand like a beached whale.

Those who don’t see, just don’t see. 

Then... as I share my vision of where I want to go, how we’ll get there, what I think will be better… someone stops. 

Oh. 

Ok, then. I’ll keep talking. 

Here’s what I’ve got. Here’s where I’m headed. The journey might not be easy, but it will be good. We’ll grow, figure out and develop our own strengths, and celebrate each others’.  

Here’s the thing - this boat is too big for me to get it out there by myself.

I could use a little help.

Want to come along?

We could do this together. Even if you know nothing about sailing, I do, and I’ll teach you. Together, we could go faster and further than I could ever go alone.

Join me? 

To my utter astonishment, she says yes.

Then together we recruit a few more, until we have a team ready to take on the journey together. Because they see it. Even if they don’t see all of it, they see enough to jump in and join in the work. 

Those who see, see.

I marvel at this new community, pulling and pushing together, bravely taking on the vast ocean in a small boat with a piece of fabric as it’s motor.

I marvel that all it took was sharing my vision, offering to help them see and learn, and committing to do it anyway, whether they helped or not, was enough for them to commit to follow.

I marvel at who sees and who does not, knowing it had nothing to do with me. The reality of my boat on the beach cannot be dismissed, just - not seen. 

So I turn my face to the sun, salt spray in my hair…

Now Captain, where shall we go today?