Ever trip over a bit of wisdom that just slid right into your being and lit up your whole understanding of the universe? Yeah, me either. But some moments do visit us and insist on pulling us with them, to teach something we needed to know, whether or not we were ready for it.
Years ago I worked for a real toxic node. This individual's unhappiness and frustration had reached such critical mass that it permeated everything in the work sphere. When I found myself hospitalized for acute nervous exhaustion, I had to accept the fact that the only thing I could change in the circumstance was myself.
Lucky for me, the organization relieved this individual of their leadership position. It took a while for my mojo to come back, but it did. Work was still stressful. The team was shell shocked, but starting to regroup. I needed a way to keep some balance in my life, and that's when I came up with the bird on a string.
On my wall, in plain view, I hung a piece of taut string between two tacks. One tack was numbered 1 and the other 10. These represented my stress levels. I had a wee paperclip that was fashioned like a raven, and I would hang it on the string to indicate what level of stress I was feeling. Weeks at a 10 had put me in the hospital, and I vowed I would never make that mistake again. If the bird hovered at a 7 for more than a week, I scheduled a wellness day for myself. I worked from home or scheduled a day off. If at all possible, I unplugged.
Eventually, colleagues asked me about the bird on the string, and I confided in them what it was. Soon, this became a regular check in point with various team members, and if the bird sat on 7 for too long, we all found a way to take a break, together. Soon, we didn't need the bird on the string. Eventually, I didn't need the bird at all. Finally, a lovely picture of a bird took its place on the wall, a quiet reminder to still the mind, to be well.
Where we rest the mind becomes real. In my coaching practice, I have shared the bird on the string story with many folks who live life in overwhelm. Many of them have found their own silent signals or check in points to self-manage. One uses a lamp; another a plant. The trick here is to find something you can't look past, something that will catch your gaze and arrest it, a clear reminder that in the whirlwind of overwhelm, you are the one who needs protecting. And the only person who can manage that is you.
May your bird find you.