The weather forecast is an educated guess about the glorious mixture of time and nature : what will blow round the world and when. We have a choice to deny it, adapt to it, or learn from it.

The weather used to be something I did things in.  Often in defiance of the weather! Regardless of wind and rain, the things I needed to do that day would have to get done, would have to fit in the work schedule. I would have to beat whatever the weather threw at me.

Nowadays weather is something to be lived alongside, to collaborate with. It determines the plan, dictates where and what I’m going to do.  Plans change or get cancelled or retimed depending on the weather. This was happening before the effects of climate change, but now more extreme weather (wetter winters, hotter summers, temperatures above 35°and below -10) is not just to be overcome, but to be respected

So what has caused this change in attitude from defiance to collaboration?

There’s three reasons – there’s always three isn’t there?! Like a politician’s stump speech!

First is the novelty of luxury of time. 

When I was working full time, I was mowing the lawn in drizzle and fading light on a Sunday evening because there would be no other chance for a week.  Now it’s a glance at the forecast to pick the opportune time. A luxury of choice and light. I used to see the house in light only at weekends; the weekday ritual being a drive in the dark from an integral garage to an underground car park.

Second is being more integrated with the seasons and nature.

Tristan Gooley has written books like ‘the Secret world of weather’ on the outdoor life that I wouldn’t have had time or interest for twenty years ago. Turns out that an open observation of weather and nature can tell us as much, or even more!, than apps on our phone – trees bear the imprint of prevailing winds, moss grows on the northern shadier side of trees, lines of mowed grass shade differently depending which angle you observe them from. ‘Stop and smell the roses’ as the saying goes.

And the third reason must be to do with age and pace and rethinking.

Being older I take fewer risks, I’m less adventurous, more aware of the risk of injury. That apple hanging just out of reach on the tree used to be a challenge; now I notice the swaying of the ladder and the teetering of an outstretched arm. I can take the time to be mindful in all things, however trivial and routine; things are to be savoured rather than rushed’. That rain that’s ruined the chance of tennis has a fascinating pattern working its way down the window. Weather and nature seem a bit bigger than I am and if I can’t beat them I’d better work with them

Being driven on the dusty roads of India (on an all too rapid tour of the ‘golden triangle’), there were vast fields out of the window, with sparse numbers of people working the land. What were their drivers for the day; what were their KPIs and targets; what effect might national news or local politics have on them? They had an integration with nature (and undoubtedly a struggle to live in nature) that is universal and eternal, unlike the temporary parochial rushes of most of lives.

You don’t need a weatherman to forecast where reality and satisfaction might really lie.

We can choose which way the wind may blow in the future : Time rushed or time taken mindfully; working against nature or working in harmony with it; valuing the universal and eternal rather than the parochial and temporal.

Here’s a little story with a big message :

An American investment banker was taking a much-needed vacation in a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. The boat had several large, fresh fish in it. The investment banker was impressed by the quality of the fish and asked the Mexican how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “Only a little while.” The banker then asked why he didn't stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican fisherman replied he had enough to support his family's immediate needs.The American then asked “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman replied, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos: I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The investment banker scoffed, “I am an Ivy League MBA, and I could help you. You could spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats until eventually you would have a whole fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to the middleman you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You could control the product, processing and distribution.” Then he added, “Of course, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City where you would run your growing enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But señor, how long will this all take?” To which the American replied, “15-20 years.”

“But what then?” asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said, “That's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You could make millions.”

“Millions, señor? Then what?”

To which the investment banker replied, “Then you would retire. You could move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”