Cool and grey out my window; Puget Sound’s traditional weather returns. Muted, calm light flows through trees, still bearing mostly summer leaves. A few flecks of yellow and brown, however, foreshadow fall’s approach. Time, I guess, to put away flip-flops and shorts. Cool air and breezes dominate outside. Uncovered feet now hurt. I sit, eyes following leaves pushed by a gentle breeze, wondering what autumn, and the ensuing winter, brings. A bitter winter, perhaps, laden with snow? With a great ski season ensuing, mitigating said bitterness? Or traffic regularly snarled by snow, sleet and hail? Or perhaps a gentler winter awaits? I expect a blend, snowy delights in the nearby mountains, with occasional impacts upon civilization. That, with much drinking of tea and hot cocoa, excite me.
This post gives me pause. Meetings, the infernal overwrought obsession of our lives. It's not just corporate America, but the various groups and org's I've dallied with over the years suffer from meetopia, too. No one I know likes the blasted things, yet I don't know anyone offering up a successful resistance. Related to this, methinks, I have noted that I do a great deal over my workdays (check off a ridiculous number of to-dos) and accomplish little or nothing. The mass of tasks don't roll up to anything. And I've noticed a lingering sense of frustration lately. I spend precious little time reflecting on my goals, and how I can link them to what I do over the course of any given day. I'm so divorced from this, I really wonder what I really want to do, to accomplish any more. Within a recess of my brain comes a niggling thought. Perhaps this passion for meetings offers up a substitute for reflection. Knowing that we must account, personally, face-to-face f...
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