Coming Back a Little Off-Balance
It’s January 29th. Morning Drift Series. Maybe number 11. It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these because the past few weeks have been a lot of trials and tribulations. A lot of testing—not only of willpower, but questioning of where I’m going. It’s been defocusing.
It’s one thing to say your actions are changing—your point of view, the way you react, the way you conduct yourself. It’s another thing to live it.
It’s kind of a two-fold question to myself. Why do I have such high expectations for others? And with myself, why do I have high expectations in certain areas, but no discipline in others? High expectations for other people. High expectations for other things.
I expect that when somebody has rules and standards, or a code of ethics, they actually stand by them. Not just say them out loud and expect you to adhere to them, but practice them themselves. And when that doesn’t happen, it comes back to not knowing what’s in their head—whether they think they’re doing what they say they’re going to do or not. Because from my perspective, people aren’t always aligned with what they say.
Doing What You’re Told — and Paying for It Anyway
An example that keeps coming back to me involves being given very clear instructions during a high-pressure stretch. The guidance was simple: protect your focus, stay on task, and if interruptions come up, redirect them through the proper channel. The idea was to create space to finish what needed to be done without constant disruption. I followed that direction exactly, calmly and consistently.
Over time, though, it became apparent that the system around that instruction wasn’t functioning the way it was described. The path people were supposed to use wasn’t one they were comfortable taking, so instead of the structure supporting the goal, it quietly broke down. Momentum suffered anyway.
A short while later, I found myself being told that I wasn’t communicating well—that I was coming across as unavailable or “too busy.” When I pointed out that I had been doing exactly what I was instructed to do, the response was that it wasn’t quite what had been meant. Not because the direction hadn’t been given, but because expectations had shifted without being acknowledged.
I actually had the original instruction in writing, but that wasn’t the point. The point was how easily expectations can change after the fact, and how often clarity only exists in hindsight. When you’re trying to do the right thing inside a system, you can still end up wrong if the rules quietly move.
When Some Animals Become More Equal
I’ve been spending a lot of time in my head thinking about how processes, organizations, and structure are all great things on paper. Religion can be beautiful. Politics for the people. Structure within an organization. It all looks good—until the human factor comes in.
And I think that’s the overwhelming part. The moment power is given to an individual within those structures, that’s where corruption starts to creep in. On paper, it’s still a beautiful thing, and expectations stay high. But once the human factor comes into play, it feels like human nature takes over. Whether it’s said or unsaid, applied or implied, hierarchy changes things.
That’s it in a nutshell. It becomes a matter of addressing it in your own head and realizing that, unfortunately, there isn’t much you can do about it. It brings me back to the Serenity Prayer—understanding what I can change and having the wisdom to know the difference. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m just getting older.
Paradise vs the Electric Bill
Now I’m looking at the weather again. It’s beautiful. A light haze of gray, a kind of misted cloud outlining everything, and then all of a sudden, blue skies as the sun comes up. It’s already 50 degrees in the morning. It’s not crisp. It’s not cold. It’s just nice.
It’s supposed to be 78 degrees. It’s January 29th in San Diego. Dallas–Fort Worth had snow less than a week ago. Billings, Montana was negative eight. Philadelphia and New York were slammed with snow.
And the first thing I thought was, man, my electricity bill is going to be high. Why did my mind go there instead of holy shit, I live in paradise?
It was a fleeting thought. I did shift to thinking about enjoying the day—maybe going out to Borrego Springs this weekend and taking photographs of the blooms.
When Acceptance Feels Like Failure
I don’t know. Acceptance is a motherfucker. When I say that I have to lower my expectations, it feels like I’m giving up something. Maybe that’s just a frame of mind that needs to be readjusted.
Accepting the way something is isn’t necessarily lowering your expectations. It’s finding some universal grounding to function within the environment you’re in.
At work, I have to be cognizant of the fact that what may look like a shutdown of communication or assistance on my end isn’t always portrayed that way on the other side.
At home, I have to remember that the weather—good or bad—should be taken as just that. It’s just the weather.
Religion, in itself, can be good until it imposes on other people. I’m not necessarily saying the religion itself calls for that. Some would disagree, and I can understand the argument with certain religions, but that’s not what I’m discussing here.
Even organizations that have had corruption in the hierarchy still have benefits. I guess you have to recognize what you can draw from them.
So maybe the lesson isn’t about lowering expectations at all, but redefining them—understanding where to draw from, and accepting that expectations sometimes need to be adjusted to be realized. The world doesn’t always revolve around what you expect or what you want.
Looks Different From Here
I’m looking at the mountain range out in El Cajon, California. Purple Mountain’s Majesty. I wasn’t expecting it, but it’s there. I’m a beneficiary.
As I step into my day, into environments that don’t always feel easy, I put on the face that everything is beautiful and wonderful. My expectations have changed, but maybe my attitude about how I address things has changed too.
I’ve been reminded lately of a story that was told to me—originally in reference to sobriety, but it applies more broadly. When you’re on the ground and you look up, you see a jet gliding through the sky. It looks smooth and beautiful. You wonder where they’re going. Somewhere exotic. A vacation. To see a loved one. A business trip. All the possibilities. It looks effortless, like there isn’t a care in the world.
But then you switch roles. You’re on that plane. There’s a crying baby. Turbulence. A steward or stewardess being rude. Someone clipping their toenails. You can’t get up to use the bathroom. The flight is miserable.
From the ground, you don’t see any of that. And from inside the plane, you’re not thinking about the person on the ground admiring the flight. Two entirely different perspectives. Two different sets of expectations. Almost completely dialectic.
A conflict of expectations. The person on the ground assumes those people are having a wonderful time. The people on the plane are missing connections, trying to get somewhere on time, dealing with frustration. They’re not concerned with the person below watching the sky—only with where they’re going next.
And vice versa.
The wisdom to know the difference.
Really knowing the difference.
Tides and Truth... 