A quick glance around the British political landscape and throwing your hands in the air would be a minor response. What a Mess! It is like a really really low tide, the water level has dropped like never before and all that lies beneath the surface is exposed and at first glance what used to appear well managed and coherent is now showing its true nature of wreck, rocks and dangerous reefs.
At first this appears a total nightmare and while that might be true it is also a great opportunity for us to put things right, to build better structures, to put down good foundations to build our future on as we can now see what needs to change. Now, all we need is the desire and will power to do what needs to be done. However, the most important aspect of this is that we do not give up.
We are all being asked to contribute and while many will retain their self-interest and even denial, many hopefully will not. We have something to give and one of the greatest lessons in my life, both personally and professionally, is understanding that we are never in a situation where we do not have the solution, the way out, the answer to every problem. True we will be asked to change ourselves, to turn inside out to find that better way.
How I hear you ask. The answer is through our willingness. Once we become willing our minds open and everything moves forward. To be willing we are asked to give up being right, when we are right we cannot learn and grow. We are being asked to do this now before this crisis becomes a catastrophe.
Above all do not give up. This week, Marcus Willis who was on the cusp of giving up was convinced by his partner not to and yesterday his dream came true on Centre Court at Wimbledon and a star was born.
Sue is currently in Zambia doing great and moving things forward for Vision Zambia, so this is a good time to remind ourselves of one of my favourite poems and if you don’t want to read it all just go to the last few lines.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.