Summer becomes but a memory for most as Labor Day signals the transition from warm sunny days to cool crisp mornings. Fall signals the transformation of nature with trees exchanging their coats of green for hues of yellow, red and orange. Once soft grass becomes brown and brittle under our feet. Lakes lose their blue luster, taking on the drab grey reflected from a cloudy autumn sky. For those accepting conventional wisdom – and there is plenty of that to go around – summer fades as quickly as flowers exposed to the season’s first frost. For those seeking their own reality, however, a change in season can bring a new beginning.
As a summer person, I hold onto the season for as long as possible. Rationalizing that there is less congestion on the lake in September and October than in August, I replace summer’s cloak of mosquitoes with woolen blankets, venturing out for a nightly vigil upon the waters. Such were the thoughts that filled my mind this past Labor Day while watching the endless parade of boats leave the lake. Following conventional wisdom, those lining up to leave “at a reasonable time when the water was warm” were reaping traditional rewards. They could look forward to an early arrival home, an evening of unpacking and cleaning-up before returning to work. While they might be prepared for a change in season, those leaving early would also feel a bit emptiness. They would no longer immerse themselves in the peace of the lake…the sight of a sunset or a sunrise…the reflection of their reality upon the surface of the still waters – exchanging their summer bliss for several seasons of “reality.” Those following the crowd will share both the rewards and the regrets of their fellow travelers.
Important life-lessons can be learned when one takes the time to watch the little things that happen around us. While watching the mass exodus from the lake I noticed the “yellow ski boat” that terrorized a quiet bay every weekend – its owners noisily greeting the dawn and saying goodnight to the dusk – throughout the summer. A faded green speedboat fitted with a trolling motor and multiple fishing poles slipped quietly into the water as its replacement. I saw the wake board boats that filled their bladders with water to create rolling surf (rather than small waves) – virtual walls of water that crashed against the shore, rocking paddle boards and kayaks wildly as they travelled slowly along the shore (their radios often blasting behind them as if to say, “look at me…I am here”). Personal Watercrafts bobbed silently upon the calm surface awaiting a return to their winter nests – no longer buzzing like mad hornets, the noisy beasts saddened by their premature exit from a summer of relative freedom. Though not present yet, silent floating duck blinds will soon replace the turmoil now leaving the lake – all part of an ongoing continuum without a defined beginning nor a clear-cut end. Only when one recognizes that much can come from seeking a different path than the one chosen by the crowd can he or she realize that one individual loss can become another’s gain…that what may be an end for some can become a beginning for others…that as memories of a fulfilling past fade for some, dreams of a yet to be discovered future become reality to those thinking and acting outside of the “conventional wisdom” arena.
Nature senses a change in activity as the seasons change. Where once the lakefront was crowded with ducks seeking scraps of bread from a well-wishing neighbor it becomes sanctuary to a lone bald eagle perched in the top of a small oak tree watching the shallow water intently for its next meal. Had I followed conventional wisdom and left with the crowd, two blue herons perched silently upon the top of a boat lift would have gone unnoticed. I may not have seen the spectacle of two swans preening themselves then standing in the shallow water near shore, expanding their presence by majestically stretching their wings outwards to a threatening five-foot span (hissing at my curious dog who wandered a bit too close to their perceived territory). Fishermen fill the now tranquil waters surrounded by the splash of fish leaping up through the surface just beyond their reach seemingly laughing at the futility of their efforts, The joyful laughter of children swimming no longer overshadows the haunting cries of gulls as they dive relentlessly down towards unsuspecting prey just beneath the surface of the otherwise quiet lake. To those following the crowd I say “thank you” for leaving those of us intentionally choosing to witness such rich rewards and hope that you found what you were seeking while we relish what you left behind for us to enjoy.
Far too many individuals diminish their potential by following the crowd in today’s hectic world. They chose to take the easy route – the path of least resistance – and in so doing lose any chance they may have to establish their individuality. People often suffer in silence rather than identifying and addressing the issues that most concern them. They do what everyone else does so as not to attract attention or establish unwanted expectations. Peer pressure drives decisions, a “flock” mentality replacing what was once individual choice. Saying “no” to conventional wisdom – and in doing so establishing one’s own hopes, dreams and reality – should never be viewed as being detrimental to the whole. Had Fulton listened to conventional wisdom would the boats that exited the lake have ever evolved from his steam engine? Had Edison listened to conventional wisdom would he have harnessed and refined electricity? Had the Wright brothers listened to conventional wisdom would the airplanes that travel far above us in the sky ever have joined the eagles and gulls as they soar effortlessly upon the winds? What might YOU be able to accomplish – what potential might you be able to realize – if you were to refuse conventional wisdom while seeking your own reality?