Ok, so it happens that you wake up one proverbial morning, walk out the proverbial front door, and find yourself confronted with a sack of proverbial horse shit. You stop. You think. You’ve read Victor Frankl’s book Man’s Search For Meaning and you know all about Choice Theory
(Thanks Peter
). So you realise for once in your life that in between encountering the situation and reacting to it you are king.
You get to decide what you will perceive it as, and what you will allow it to become. The realist says "It’s a bag of crap". The pessimist says more or less the same thing. The cynic says "Yeah, that’s about right for a Monday morning". The optimist says "maybe it’s here for a good reason". The visionary, however, says "Ah. fertilizer for my roses".
Too often people cloak their real motives (or lack thereof) in alleged optimism, and they call "Maybe someone else is going to sort that out" optimism. That’s not optimism, that’s laziness or, more dangerous, apathy. Whatever you call it, I don’t have time for it. The people I find myself respecting more and more are the visionaries. I am learning more and more about people, and about myself now. I am discovering that I have less and less time for passengers and more and more for pilots.
No matter how you try and regard a sack of animal excrement, no matter what attitude you adopt, it is and will remain a sack of excrement. Until someone makes it change. The person who steps out and says "I am not scared or lazy or frightened of failing" might be at the bottom of a corporate ladder, might be the quiet guy who works hard and battles with English. But he or she is a pilot. The guy who sits by and watches, he’s the passenger.
Pilots are visionaries. They can assess where they find themselves and can formulate a plan to get to where they want to get. They put themselves out there to see what will happen. And they will see you through to arrival. Pilots can understand a vision from their Squadron Leader and can understand their part of that vision. Passengers, no matter how skilled or smart or amiable, are passengers. They are here for the ride.
And as an afterthought, in a futile effort to tie my shocking analogies together, the smell of manure after it’s been worked into the ground is usually the smell of imminent success.