We all think about the future in one way or another. We think about it because we wonder about it, we worry about it or dream about it. Regardless, do we actually spend much time thinking about it in a provocative way? I wonder if we systematically follow that up with a plan, sharing it with the people in our circle? Wife, kids, partners? I think we go through the motions, but in general I’m not sure we spend a great deal of disciplined time doing it. I think we mostly get distracted by life. At least I think that’s what happens to me.

What I’m talking about is deeper level thinking. For example, looking at how our personal lives and our businesses coincide (or not), the interconnectedness of the material, spiritual and physical aspects of living our lives. What do we really want to accomplish? How do we really want to spend our time? It is easy to lose sight of what really matters but sometimes – more often than not, I think, it’s simply because we are distracted by the daily curiosities of life - the clouds, a sunny afternoon, a nice little breeze or playing with someone or an animal we like. So many things.

One of my favorite pursuits are the distractions that are always there. They are pearls of luxury that we take for granted. Sure, we want to be organized and disciplined. We need to think about the future in a serious way. But what I really like is taking the time to understand what these distractions mean. Maybe sometimes, it's a good break from today’s pressure cooker. 

There are certain times - or maybe mostly, when it happens naturally. Like for example, in the springtime. It is a favorite time for many of us, but beyond being a break from the cold, it is a special time for me.  It is a catalyst for thinking about new things because of how it represents a major change. It creates an opening through which I can think a little differently about life. It’s a time to relax and muse about how special small moments can be that are otherwise looked over, and what possibilities are out there, lurking. This sounds deep and somewhat esoteric, but it helps me think in a simpler way about ordinary things that sometimes matter the most.

Like for example, what’s been happening here this spring. We are in the midst of March and I am in Wyoming where it is averaging between 40 and 55 degrees most days when it could very easily be in the single digits or teens. We were moving the cow herd last Tuesday, from the Neely pasture to HDQ, a 3 hour drive across some beautiful open, rolling country. The cows are on the verge of dropping their calves and we need for them to be on fresh pasture and closer where we can watch them more easily. We trotted over from HDQ early in the cool morning and gathered the cattle in the field onto the fence we would be taking them through. After we sorted off about 20 early pairs to leave behind because the baby calves were too young to walk the entire way, we pushed the herd through the gate. It was just warming up as everyone assumed their positions around the herd, starting it off in the direction of home. It was beautiful just being there.

I haven’t been out on a horse that much because of the winter cold and because the cattle were close, held in by fields. This was one of the changes that has come with springtime, getting away from the office and the computer and phone calls and meetings. As we went along, a rhythm was established; we became a team absorbed in the movement of walking the long walk back home keeping the cows together, keeping the momentum flowing. The cows also, you could tell, were happy to be walking on fresh ground. I’d say almost giddy, it felt like, because they were so good humored, responding so easily to the slightest pressure you placed on them. They grazed a little here and a little there as they went along, and when they came to something that tasted good they stopped, but it didn’t take much to knock them off it to keep them moving.

We climbed a steep rocky hill that took a lot of sitting back and letting it happen because they went so slow over the rocks and steepness of the climb. It was the only real challenge we faced other than crossing the creek a little later. Soon enough through, we were walking right along on top when I heard a bunch of squawking above me. I like to practice counting flying birds because it’s so similar to counting cattle - much harder than what you might think and something that is good to be able to do accurately and consistently. So naturally, as I looked up, I counted 15 geese, but the second and third time there were 14. But what I remember mostly was the thought that came to me.. they’re flying north.  Ahah. ..!! Yes, spring time is indeed here, confirmed because geese heading north in this time of change are not fooled, even on the cusp of winter’s end. 

It was as if something in me was awakened by these birds flying north by pure instinct, imprinted by hundreds of thousands of millions of their forefathers through the ages. That was a special moment because in that instant I felt all of it in my bones: the millennia upon millennia of generations, the magnitude of all that time compressed into those birds flapping their wings in rhythm, intent on one thing that they did without thinking a split second about it. Like a biological clock ticking, something also ticked inside me.