The key to getting things done is doing them on your own terms.

This is a motto of mine; words I live by. A commute can be a pain, but what if I left a little earlier, took the scenic route, drank some good coffee and listened to a good book on the way? Dishes can be a pia, but with music? What if I focus on the bubbles?

As a researcher, I am often motivated by the power of noticing. As a moderator, this means providing space for the quietest voices to blossom. As an analyst, this means taking the time and care to represent all of the voices, not just the loudest or most eloquent.

I’ve often taken pride in my invisibility as a facilitator. I feel like I’ve done my job when I’m barely noticed, but the tone is set, the participants are at ease and the conversation stays on track through the subtlest of prompts and cues.

Today I’m kayaking. I enjoy racing through the water, but when I stop, I see birds hidden in tall grass, fish jumping, and the almost magical pops of light reflecting on water and trees.

My community work has also followed this model; amplifying quiet voices, endorsing those who seem tentative but I know to be insightful. Noticing.

This is my way of working, living and interacting in the world, and this is what drives me to do the work I’m doing now.

I have a voice that I have never hesitated to use. But I’ve learned that the world comes alive around me when I choose to observe. I trust that the same voice I use to advocate for others is well practiced and fully available when I need it, and with that trust I can fade back.

I’m in a transformative moment. I’m deciding what I want to build and that requires repeatedly doubling back to my principles. What do I stand for? What do I provide as naturally as I breathe or paddle? Who am I without institutional backing, when I’m free to create?

There is a large exodus in my field; people who have lost jobs and are beginning consultancies. For some, the path may feel more clear than for others. How can we support each other better? Connect more? Collaborate more? Grow stronger together? Are we all adrift? Could we paddle together?

When I finished my paddle today, I pulled onto shore and a park employee greeted me. I saw poop on both sides of the kayak and tried to point it out to her. She didn’t see me or hear me. She appeared to have already decided my words didn’t merit her attention. ‘Watch where you step!” I shouted, after a few attempts, and then watched her croc’d foot come down in a large pile of poop. In this world of paddlers, where we all sit under the same blanket of sky and listen to the sounds of birds that live freely amongst and between us, I choose to listen, to observe, to hear, to find pockets of magic and to step in poop as little as possible.