Seldom a week goes by that I do not see in the Western Producer an article by one of my fellow columnists talking about the changes challenging those of us who live on the Prairies.
We have changed how we manage our farms, the ways in which we work the soil, the ways in which we run our homes and the ways our children relate to us. Change is natural to the human condition. What is unusual these days is the amount of change that we experience. We have a lot of it.
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My grandfather brought his family over from Europe on a steamship, took the train to Winnipeg, and travelled by cart to his small homestead in Saskatchewan. The amount of change that he and his family experienced throughout that impressive journey is less than we have just by staying at home and having breakfast in the same kitchen, on the same piece of land. We do not have to travel out there to find a different life. It is coming at us all of the time.
Most of us are looking for recipes to help us deal with the changes we find in our personal and professional lives. If we fail to find them, we get anxious and scared as we look toward an uncertain future, or we get sad and depressed as we see once important events in our lives desecrated by the new wave of values and attitudes.
Friends recommended a great book about change called Who Moved My Cheese. Every farm should have a copy of it. The book, which takes about 90 minutes to read, has some ideas to help us deal with the changes we find.
The essence of the tale is that each of us is reaching out for rewards in whatever form we choose to, much as mice search for cheese. Sometimes the rewards are not there for us, just as the cheese is not always there for the mice, but instead of changing and looking for new ways to get our rewards, we persist in looking in the same places, and doing the same things. For example: we nag out kids nightly to empty the dishwasher and, even then, we are lucky if we do not end up doing it ourselves. Perhaps if we tried something different, rewarding them for doing it, feeding them on paper plates, or whatever, we might get a better response.
The book explains that the problem is that we sometimes lose sight of what we really want. Basically, our wants can be broken down into five directions. All of us want some level of security, a house over our heads and a little bread on the table. We want some control over our lives so that we can make a few decisions ourselves. We would like a social network, including in it recognition from other people for the contributions we make to their lives. We want to have a close and intimate relationship with another person. And, finally, most of want adventure in our lives, something new and different to keep us stimulated.
Once we figure out which of the five wants are relevant at a particular point in time, finding the cheese is easier, even if it means changing the way we go about it.
Jacklin Andrews is a family counsellor, living and working in west-central Saskatchewan who has taught social work for two universities. Mail correspondence in care of Western Producer, Box 2500, Saskatoon, Sask., S7K 2C4 or e-mail jandrews@producer.com.
