Are You In Your Beautiful, Little Rut?

Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

Have you ever been on a farm that uses those giant sprinklers, anchored at the center, that sweep in a massive circle? Those are called irrigation pivots. Pivots, for short.

During periods of heavy irrigation, the massive structures roll slowly along the wet ground, carving deeper ruts with each pass. At times, the ruts can get so deep that a regular pickup truck can get stuck trying to cross. So, farmers have to take the time to repair the ruts in key places, like farm roads, in order to be able to safely drive across a pivot’s path.

The metaphor of ‘being stuck in a rut’ is the idea that we develop habits or patterns of behavior that have become dull and unproductive yet hard to change.

The metaphor has a negative connotation, for sure. The image of the irrigation pivot digging deep trenches in the ground as it moves also paints the picture of increasing difficulty in a farmer’s life when being a farmer is already not easy.

Does that mean ruts are always a bad thing?

For 25 years, I’ve woken up nearly every weekday to go to work. Let’s suppose, after taking some vacation days, that there are 230 work days in a year. Over the course of 25 years, that’s 5,750 days. I’ve never worked an 8-hour-a-day kind of job, so let’s put the average number of hours worked at 10. That’s easy math. Now we’re looking at 57,500 hours.

I’ve traded that time for money (most of the time). The money I earn serves a purpose. It provides for my family. It pays taxes to support infrastructure and some worthwhile government programs (some not worthwhile ones too). It is given to charitable organizations and to support individuals in need. It’s used for recreational activities. It’s used (too often) for trips to the convenience store.

The principles I outlined in “Is Courage Just Stupidity with a Purpose?” are important to consider when evaluating ruts in life. I’ve always wanted to work for myself, but the practical reality of providing for a large family has kept me in the “rut” of working for someone else. For most of those 57,500 hours, that hasn’t been a bad thing. I’ve been able to use my skills to help businesses solve some complex business problems. That’s rewarding.

In other words, the rut, for the most part, hasn’t been bad. Many times, it’s been wonderful. I wake up day after day after day, go to the same job with the same people, and enjoy the time I have with them. We laugh together, share stories, and get stuff done.

Jeremy Goldberg gets credit for the statement: “Courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyway. Stupidity is the same thing. And that’s why life is hard.”

Dieter F. Uchtdorf, who flew professionally for Lufthansa German Airlines then retired as Senior VP of Flight Operations, shared a story about a group of everyday people trying to move a rather large piano. The story itself isn’t remarkable. I’ve helped moved dozens of pianos in my life. However, an important point emerged from his telling of that particular story:

Stand close together and lift where you stand.

At times, it takes courage to stay where you are, knowing that the risks associated with change may outweigh the good you do where you are. An all too familiar example is of the single mother raising small children who is stuck in a job she’d rather not be doing, but she sticks with it year after year because it provides sufficient maintenance for her family. 

Another example might be the young father who works multiple jobs so his wife can stay home with their children rather than putting them in daycare.

Ask the mother or father if they feel like their sacrifice is worth it. Ask them if they would do it all again for the sake of providing for their family. Sometimes, children grow up with deep gratitude for the sacrifice of their parents. Sometimes, they grow up resenting what they didn’t have. Rarely does the opinion of the child influence whether the striving parent would do it all again.

Then again, sometimes there is recognition that the courage to get out of the rut and the associated risk is low enough that a change becomes the thing that propels you forward.

Here’s the point: don’t make a change just because the talking heads and social media tell you that the grass is greener. I once left a decent job to chase the job of my dreams only to find out the grass was greener because of the ample application of manure. Thankfully, my decent job boss gave me my job back when the dream job fell apart.

Sometimes, staying in the rut is exactly where you need to be, and that can be beautiful. After all, farmers have been dealing with ruts their whole lives, but what they do is so important that they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the Noise Behind

 

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

I recently read a beautiful essay by Don Johnson (not that Don Johnson). It was one of those essays that stirs the heart and somehow elicits both joy and sadness at the same time.

I aspire to write essays of the same caliber as his and John P. Weiss’s someday.

The central theme of the essay is the idea of leaving things behind. “Leaving things behind,” he says, “creates more space for new things, freedom, and growth.”

A common theme in my life is that life is full of the noise of things clamoring for my attention. For far too long, I’ve given outsize attention to the noisiest of things which are not often the things of greatest value. The adage, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” has been latched onto by so many things of little value.

In his article, Mr. Johnson suggests that it’s okay for us to “leave behind what no longer serves you with gratitude and kindness.” It’s an interesting departure from a growing social norm that we leave employment, leave relationships, leave political and social affiliations with as much noise as possible — with public declarations that such and such or so and so has lost our support because of x, y, and z.

What he suggests is that, even when making a departure from a difficult situation, it’s okay to have gratitude for valuable lessons learned in that situation. That takes a lot of emotional maturity that I don’t necessarily possess but I’m working on.

I believe the world is as noisy as it is because it’s filled with people who are desperate to be heard. There’s this constant pull to change, improve, and refine everything around us. That’s not necessarily a bad thing — personal growth comes from the stretch and strain of striving to be better than we are — but it’s a mentality often driven more by external pressure than a real desire to be better.

Mr. Johnson concluded his article with a profound and simple statement:

I felt good accepting things as they were and leaving behind the idea it would be better if they were different.

At first, letting go of the idea that everything needs to be constantly refined, improved, and polished can be difficult. After letting go of that expectation, the idea that the world — or even my own life — must be other than what it is gives way to an increased capacity to hear the quieter, more enduring parts of myself.

Make no mistake. It takes work to allow these quieter parts to guide us toward what really matters: greater presence, small moments of wonder, and growth in contentment rather than constant change.

I’m still working on embracing this quieter acceptance. I’m discovering a purpose not rooted in reshaping everything all the time. It’s an interesting thought that we have to allow space for things to bring meaning. With all the noise in the world today, it won’t happen by accident. I’m learning that it’s not about trying to shout over the noise. It’s about listening to a very small voice inside me — one that I’m helping grow — that remains steady, resilient, and more peaceful.