Topic 210: Mountains and Molehills

Carol:

Little Engines That Can

I saw today’s  topic and immediately thought of the old adage “making mountains out of molehills,” which I  tried not to do before I was retired, when I really felt the pressure of juggling family and work. I made up for procrastination by being an expert time manager, and I focused all my attention at work on making it through my to-do list, no hanging out in the faculty lounge, no cups of coffee and shooting the breeze with my colleagues. I even got really good at helping my students learn how to navigate the molehills and mountains of their educational paths as they juggled school with family and work. But, I never really thought about reversing the adage and considering turning mountains into molehills.
 

There is a difference between NOT blowing something the mental size of a molehill out of proportion and NOT letting something that really is the size of a mountain paralyze you into inaction.
 

Gaining perspective, how to keep molehills from looking and feeling like steep, jagged, lung-sucking obstacles of mountains is about being realistic and patient. It’s about keeping your eyes on the next step or the next task without looking so far ahead as to lose your footing or sense of purpose.
 

Gaining perspective, how to turn steep, jagged, lung-sucking obstacles of mountains into manageable and satisfying little molehill challenges, is about being optimistic and patient.  The big challenges seem insurmountable, chronic, tragic—world hunger, economic downturn, environmental catastrophe, global violence.  But, turning mountains into molehills is all about strengthening the body, brain and spirit to attack tough challenges with skill and efficiency.  We can’t bulldoze the mountain, but we can learn how to conquer it a little bit at a time.
 

My engine search with “mountains and molehills” found several  interesting websites, mostly around the notion that a small group of people can effect change on a small scale and still make a difference. An interesting example is the website  Mountains and Molehills—Colorado’s Heartbeat.  It is basically an advertising site, doesn’t hide the fact, says it right up front that it serves “the needs of small business owners through affordable, effective advertising” (source: Mountains and Moles). But, the mission also includes a commitment to preserving the history and vitality of small town live, and its links celebrate the LOCAL, local business, local artists, local heroes.
 

A completely different website that pops up from the same engine search is called Repair the World, dedicated to inspiring service work among American Jews: “We aim to make service a defining part of American Jewish life” (source: Repair the World). This site does tackle the bigger, global issues of civil rights, disaster relief, child abuse, and social justice. But, it includes a section called D.I.Y with practical suggestions for making those issues local and personal.
 

Like I said, turning mountains into molehills requires a change of perspective to look positively at personal, creative problem-solving. Mountain climbers train rigorously for the work ahead, but they don’t do it just by climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. They practice on the little, local molehills too. And, what about the people who don’t have the strength, skill or resources to be mountain climbers. They can make a difference, too, with a little positive thinking…
 

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…. I know I can.

Sources:
Mountains and Molehills website.
Repair the World.

Megan:

Yesterday I took the day off to hang out with my friends Kelly and Chuck. When they left our house on Sunday, I gave them careful directions to help them avoid the various road repairs between here and Sedona – especially the construction on Mingus mountain. Then, the next day I drove to meet up with them and deliberately ignored all of the sensible advice I had given them. Not only was I stuck behind the Smelliest and Slowest Truck in the World, I also spent a full half hour completely stopped. Immediately behind me was an unmarked police car, and for the entire time we were stopped I worried about whether or not my registration was in date, if my tail and brake lights were in working order, what he would think of the dozens of empty beer and wine bottles I had in my trunk (Prescott has stopped recycling glass, so we periodically drive it over the mountain and drop it at the center in the Verde Valley). I was so fixated on the cop car, and the series of texts I was sending to Kelly and Chuck about my late arrival, that I didn’t notice when the traffic started moving again and the cop had to hit his horn.

Usually this would prompt me to speed ahead, especially since I had just lost 30 minutes. Once the pilot car turned around, the cars in front of me were long gone, but I had that unmarked car behind me so I crept along at the posted maximum speed limit (which at some places is only 20 mph) until the cop made a U-Turn and headed back over the mountain. I guess he was detailed to patrol the construction site. What a boring job.

Anyway, I called Kelly to let her know I’d be joining them shortly and we agreed to meet at  Red Rocks Crossing for a short hike and a swim in Oak Creek. She texted me directions, and once I noted that the turn was in Oak Creek, I happily cruised on my way. I know a lot of my readers are probably not familiar with the layout of the greater Sedona area, but I have been going there since I was a very small child and had been in the exact area less than 6 months ago. I don’t know street names, but I felt pretty confident I could find my way around. With that in mind, the fact that I confused the Village of Oak Creek with Oak Creek Canyon was incredibly stupid. 

It wasn’t until I passed Slide Rock that it occurred to me that I might be going the wrong way. And then I drove another 10 miles just to make sure. By the time I pulled over, I had lost another hour as well as my cell phone reception.  Luckily my GPS navigation worked, and I realized I was nearly 40 miles of winding canyon road north of where I was supposed to be. The reception came back about halfway through Sedona when my phone suddenly came alive with previously undelivered texts and voice mails, inquiring about my whereabouts with increasing concern.

I did eventually find my friends, (but not until I got lost twice more), and although they had been swimming and waiting for me for more than 2 hours, they quite happily stayed put and let me swim away my frustration for another hour. I slipped on the rocks, got swept away in about 8 inches of fast-moving water, and managed to dislodge a natural dam so I’m sure it was very amusing for Kelly and Chuck. They kept saying helpful things like, “This is your land. You grew up here. Why is this so difficult for you?”