Last Saturday, I had the opportunity to fulfill a long-sought dream come true: to go dog sledding. A few months ago, I happened to see this particular event showcased in my local community winter activity catalog. You know the ones you get every few months that mostly pile up waiting to be read until you finally just recycle them accepting the fact that despite all of your good intentions you simply aren't going to make the time to read them? Yeah, one of those. Except this time, I actually read it and lo and behold, a bucket list item waiting to be completed, just ten minutes from my house and at an affordable cost. I was sold.
And so it was that one of my very best friends, my two eldest kids, and I set out for an adventure. When we arrived, we were delighted to find that while we waited for our turn with one of the two teams currently attached to their sleds, there were a dozen or so other Siberian huskies simply resting and seemingly ready to be the recipients of our love and affection. Some of them slept, a few barked/howled excitedly, but mostly they just sat their alert and ready to connect with whatever human happened to stride by. A few in particular, including a beautiful, gentle, affectionate dog named Blue Sky, seemed to simply revel in the attention. I think if left to my own devices, I could have simply sat, cuddling, and petting these sled dogs all day. It was almost as if I could feel the oxytocin coursing through my system; my friend and I kept looking at each other with knowing stares as if to say: how the heck did we end up so lucky to be here with them, like this?
Eventually it was our turn to take our sled ride. As it turned out, our swing dog “Leo” wasn't entirely sure he wanted to stay on trail. Perhaps he was tired or hungry, perhaps he was just done pulling sleds for the day (to be fair, they pulled him from the team after our ride, so, that did seem to be the consensus), perhaps he was just ready to take the road less traveled a la Robert Frost. Whose to say, but whatever his reasons, Leo spent the first third of our ride veering our team into the reeds on the side of the frozen lake. It was a slow start, to say the least. While our musher continued yelling “On By!” in his mostly failed attempts to get us back on track, my friend and I just mostly laughed. We thought it was hilarious. My six-year-old daughter Lydia, however, did not. She was more than upset. She wanted to go faster; she wanted the experience it seemed everyone else was having. She wanted Leo to behave and do what he was “supposed to do”.
In the moment, I was somewhat disappointed that she was disappointed while not wanting her to detract from my experience. As a community education event, it was meant to be a brief experience to begin with: a 5-10minute ride, tops. I wanted to be present for it and to enjoy it, no matter how it turned out to be.
It wasn't until after we were done, and after Lydia fully vented about how much she “hated” Leo, that I was able to fully accept what a normal, human reaction she had had. How many of us have gone into something having a “vision” or an expectation of how it was supposed to be or to go only to be gravely disappointed when the reality didn't match up with that same vision or expectation? How hard can it be to let go of that expectation in the moment and instead settle into the experience that is actually occurring instead?
I think I first learned about the concept of being “unattached to outcome” when I was doing my initial internship for chaplaincy back in 2008. Being unattached to outcome doesn't mean we never set goals or make plans, instead, it invites us to show up, do our part, and then gently let go of the things that are not within our control. I can no more control a sled dog than a first responder can control how many or what types of calls come in on any given day. There are simply hundreds (thousands?) of elements outside of our control every single day. If any one of us were to go into work with a certain expectation that only a, b, and c, were going to occur and that such and such would go like this, we would be likely to experience vast disappointment when the reality falls short of our expectations. If instead, however, we do our best to show up, do our part, be present, and then let go of the rest, we might find ourselves much more apt to enjoy the ride… rogue sled dogs and all.
This isn't easy. It takes practice. And surely, sometimes we are going to find ourselves ranting and venting about the “Leo's” we encounter along the way. Even so, I truly believe that the more we try to let go of our visions of how things are “supposed to be” (barring of course, they don't impede our ethics, values, integrity, etc.) and instead allow ourselves to be present to things as they are, the more we will find ourselves pleasantly surprised or at least at peace with the reality at hand.
Just a thought…
As always, take good care of yourselves and your team.
P.S. Truth be told, they had me within a few minutes of petting the dogs, we could have missed the ride altogether and I still would have been more than content. I mean, look at the smile on Blue Sky's face??? I highly recommend.
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