Last Saturday I went skiing. It was a quick trip to the closest mountain. Many years ago I learned to ski on this mountain. I left that day with grand ambitions of someday moving to the steeper trails, maybe even trying the mysterious "back side" runs here someday. On Saturday I returned.
The hill was lower, the lifts smaller, the snow slower than I remembered. I traversed all the lifts and trails in under an hour and still had seven hours left on my pass. The double blacks might have qualified for a square or single diamond other places; I didn't care. One thing hadn't changed; I enjoyed the day immensely. Being outside in the cold - clothes plastered with snow, goggles iced over, flying down, riding up, cheating gravity both ways - for some reason made me insanely happy.
I decided to spend the day on the moguls because they terrify me. The rest of the mountain, even the other double blacks, couldn't hold my interest for more than a few runs. With moguls, all afternoon, up the lift and down, six turns, or maybe eight, then ride back up. Trying to make short turns yet go fast. I left with fatigue and a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day.
Skiing is like business. It's challenging, addictive, and nonsensical all rolled into a single package. Business isn't that difficult - it's the mere performance of services, processes, and functions. But it's based on economics and this is where things get hairy, because nobody understands economics. It's like building a tower without a foundation. Truly exhilarating because it requires such a nimble construction crew.
Ideas form in the twinkle of an eye. Business ties twinkles to economics - a definite statement in tension between two unknowable forces. At the end of each day I lick my finger and pack up my computer, feeling satisfied and accomplished.
We are high performers not normal but high performers
we perform things make papers smell like
perfume we are highly creative unusually industrious
exceptionally conscientious diligent intelligent
we are high performers former high hopers on a high wire
balancing a ream of paper on our heads
no net under us just the boss with her arms crossed
in a knot glasses fogged we thinkshe is smiling yes the boss is definitely smiling she has
finally found a vein on her wrist that smells of oil
we plug away despite the plagues in other countries
we are still in awe of the boss andthe law and all the dollars the doll I once had is now my
daughter's doll she will dream of balls and
gowns and sparkly towns when should I tell her all the
towns are falling down~Victoria Chang