I live on the east coast, in that
weather zone that has been color-coded with a bulls-eye for "Storm
of the Century" on it for the past week. I found out about the
impending "snowpocalypse" from concerned friends and family members
- asking about my travel plans for the weekend - and "did I know?"
about the weather issues. I didn't. Not being much of a
worrier, I assumed things would resolve themselves; they usually
do. Not this time.
Yesterday afternoon, I caved and drove the whole nine miles to
the closest shoe store, and about the time the flakes were starting
in earnest, purchased a pair of very cute, on sale, and warm boots
- figured I might need them. We had procured a "real" snow
shovel a couple weeks ago, and I had located "pet-friendly" ice
melt. Boots, shovel, ice melt, a bottle of really nice red
wine… while the world around me was wildly clearing grocery
shelves, cancelling everything, checking in with family and
neighbors, hauling in firewood, and generally acting like the last
life boat was leaving the Titanic, I was smug.
Then it got quiet. The phone stopped ringing, the last visitors
and delivery people sped away, businesses closed, the emails
stopped, and the flakes were still coming down. Only now they
were coming down about an inch an hour, and even with my grown-up
snow shovel I was having trouble keeping up, and the weather
advisories were still ominous, including predictions of massive
power outages and "thunder snow". The storm had
not waited; as it had been forecasted, it had manifested - almost
to the exact hour that it had been predicted. Brutal truth
time - "too late" time - the window of opportunity to PREPARE was
officially closed.
Too late to get that firewood, to check on those flashlight
batteries, to find that missing emergency radio. Too late to buy
that generator that we have been talking about since the last
dangerous storm, Hurricane Isabel. Really too late to
introduce myself to a few of the neighbors on the next street, so
that they might include me on the list of the missing and needing
assistance. I sat in the quiet, in awe of the beauty
and the power of the storm, still trying not to worry, still hoping
my luck would hold, but suddenly painfully aware of the metaphor
that it was offering.
The time for preparation had passed. You can't cram for
storms, just like you can't cram for a lot of things in life that
are really important; building a relationship, achieving
credibility as an expert, mastering a skill, giving a world class
presentation, earning an reputation, creating or sustaining or
being part of something that matters enough to be on your legacy
wish list. The Malcom Gladwell " 10,000 hour rule", as he
established in Outliers, completely supports the notion of
both preparation and practice makes perfect. Applied against
almost any endeavor, it is our effort spent in both that allow us
to flourish, fulfill our dreams, and, oh yeah - survive a
storm.
This one appears to have passed. I imagine that within a
week things will be back to normal. Tomorrow we will begin to
dig out. And unless the roof collapses, or the power goes
out, I will be able to pretend that I was ready for whatever Mother
Nature was throwing our way; that my just-in-time preparation was
good enough. I guess that's why we publish our thoughts.
Because this evening , as the winds abate, the last flakes fall,
and darkness descends, I am thinking about the lessons. In
order to grow and flourish, in our personal lives as in business,
we need to face the brutal truth - that there is not an unlimited
amount of time to prepare. There will always be a day
of reckoning, when the practice and the preparation matter.
P.S. www.electricgenerators.com is a really good
site :-)