May the New Year bring you health, peace, and prosperity!
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Balancing Act®: The Newsletter(No. 269, January 2022) |
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May the New Year bring you health, peace, and prosperity! |
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MusingsAs I’m writing this, the Omicron scare has subsided. By the time you read this we may well have an Upsilon or Omega variant! I don’t mean to make light of disease, of course, but I do mean to recognize resilience. There was temporary panic with the new variant, fears of faster spread, more lethality, unaffected by the vaccine. But within 48 hours the markets rebounded (stronger than ever), the vaccines were deemed effective, and restrictions were largely not reintroduced in many places. A shock, such as Covid, creates trauma and confusion. Whom do you trust? The scientific community and the politicians seemed lost at sea with conflicting advice and rumors on the internet at absurd levels. But once the vaccines arrived and we practiced sensible precautions, life resumed close to our expectations. To be “inured” means “to become accustomed to,” and especially with regards to something unpleasant. Fans of a winless sports team become inured to losing—they don’t take each loss quite so hard and they celebrate wildly should a “win” break through. We have become inured to the threat of nuclear war—we go about our day not preoccupied with what might happen should inept leaders press the red button. Tragedy nevertheless strikes: We lose loved ones, lose money, lose family gatherings, lose socialization, lose educational opportunities, and so forth. But we get over them. And we stop being petrified by the same “shocks” or, at least, recover from them more quickly. Our resilience intensifies. But I urge you to recognize this immutable fact. There is no “return to normal.” There is no “new normal.” We should learn from these disruptions and realize that, while we may be facing “new realties,” nothing is “normal” again nor should it be. After all that we’ve endured, I don’t think we should be striving for average. |
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I’m spoiled by my usual car servicing, and I had to bring the Toyota pickup in for a scheduled service. My wife drops me off to pick it up, and the cashier tells me the truck is out in the lot and hands me the keys, and I wander out—to find thousands of trucks that look like mine. While I’m standing there ready to scream, a woman walks by on the way to her truck. “Just hit your remote on your key, sweeties,” she says, and wanders off into the night as I hit my key fob and hear the response. |
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A virtual or real assistant for a solo practice is merely a band-aid on the scrape of poor organization. But it’s a hell of an expensive band-aid. |
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