Unstuck In a Rut

It's the kind of lazy Sunday where I semi tried to fight my boredom but deep down I know my soul loves the found unscheduled sunny hours of the day.  So in that way, I eventually succumbed to the tone of the day and... maybe... I snuck in a nap.

Somewhere between my nap and my desire to do something productive, I stopped by our next door neighbor's house to say hey.  Well, it was my dog's idea.  Hubble LOVES him (and sometimes I wonder if we could co-own my dog since she's so clearly happy when he's around).  After the usual attempt at a walk with her, the journey ended with her desperately pulling her weight towards his front door.  I gave in and just dropped her off at his house for a little bit.  I wonder if he minds...

Anyways, I wonder if Hubble is onto something- if a change of scenery is helpful.  Not just for dogs though.  For people.  Have you ever been so stuck in a rut that you simply know you're stuck but no amount of pushing or turning or thinking can get you on level ground again?  

One of my jobs growing up was doing yard work at the organization my dad owned and led- The Eldred Company.  It was a machine shop in the industrial South side of Columbus, Ohio with 6 acres of thick grass, an unwieldy poison-ivy-creeping-vine hybrid along the fences, and lame pine trees that my uncle had trimmed back too far.  Saturday mornings were grass mowing days since my dad and I were
 the only employees around.  It worked out well since I didn't have to concern myself with the details of avoiding mowing debris (or the occasional asphalt rock) pinging off of employee's parked cars. 

Since The Eldred Company was a typical machine shop, there were lots of work trucks that would deliver or retrieve large scale materials.  There were trash trucks to remove the metal waste.  There were semi-trucks that would carry away a million dollar machine to its destination.  There were random turnarounds.  And these trucks became my nemesis.  Each time a truck wheel entered the grass bed, I would picture myself (with crimped hair, high waisted jeans, and grass stained Reebok high tops) in an 80s movie running in slow motion towards the driver "Noooooo..."  

But that didn't actually happen. So on Saturdays, each rut became a cliff that I would inch towards with the riding mower, the wheels carefully skimming the edge.  Unfortunately this was a battle hardened mower with little ability for detail and little response to my superior maneuverability so the outcome was often me, on the mower, in a rut.  

I would twist the steering wheel, I would try the ol' forward/reverse trick and hope to rock the mower to level land, I would climb off and push with the force of my frustration.  But more often than I'd like to admit, I would need to dismount my mower signaling defeat and go find help.  

Looking back, I should have noticed that those rutty experiences were actually prophetic.  

Sometimes you just can't get out of a rut on your own.
Sometimes you need a new mower.
Sometimes you need new ability.

But I wonder if there are times when we actually just need to start on a different yard.  Different grass.  Would a different situation, even with all of it's challenges, provide the push we need to get out of a rut?  I think so.  It's just a little scary when it comes to getting out of a rut because after all, ruts can also provide false boundaries.  They can be tricky because they keep us playing small within the constraints of their walls but past them is freedom and so much more potential.   



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