How is February treating you? It dawned on me, as I'm getting used to longer days, that a certain ongoing practice can be really charged for all of us. And what is that practice?
So many of our challenges, upheavals and disappointments can be traced back to questionable boundaries. So I thought I'd take this month's two SwaffWords© to (re)consider them, their impact and their often loaded reputation.
In its simplest form, a boundary is a just dividing line—something that distinguishes one thing from another. For our purposes—one moment from another. It's the place where no longer and not yet meet—the dividing line between what has been and what will be.
You know that moment—it can last a split second or unwind in a long series of events. Either way, being able to navigate it takes a certain finesse that goes beyond limited—and limiting—choices.
Here's the big secret to boundaries: they are not fixed points like walls or concrete slabs. They are much more fluid. Note I say fluid, and not porous.
Terrific boundary work is very organic and adaptable. It is not hard and fast, offering only a small number of options. It is in constant play and responds best when we treat it like an ongoing dance with a partner.
Think about it—we've all danced with a great partner here and there: we're listening and taking cues not only from one another but also the music; we're following their lead; they're following ours; we easily keep going when we've "made a mistake"; when we're too far apart, we come closer together; when we're too close, we step back to allow for a bit of breathing room.
Are boundaries really all that different? Instead of choosing to see them as obstacles that can stall our momentum, what if they're just signposts indicating it's time to change direction(s)?
Consider "Boundaries as Redirects" (2:58):
