Lots of  ’em in Portland.  Lots of ’em in the California’s Wine Country; and even in the Hudson River Valley.  And Rhinebeck.  Few of ’em on the walls of corporate America.  Roberto would like to see more of that.  Whenever and wherever  Roberto sees trees, he feels calm.  A soothing, deep breath is an auto fill.  Even at work:  There’s an Ansel Adams poster in the Boardroom.  A panoramic view of Brooklyn Bridge and XXXXXX   is on the opposite wall.  He chooses that tree.  That mountain  XXXX Ridge.  Sometimes, Roberto escapes to the room for five minutes of soul feeding, just to go to Yosemite through the poster.   Does his lower ab breathing; grounds himself through his feet.  He thinks of the hikes he and his Dad had during the summers, when he’d have two months in California through the joint-custody arrangement.  The school year left no chance for consistent face time.

Roberto spent elementary school years carving ridges into the underside of  his desk.  These were angry hands on the end of his hidden pocket knife.  “Why did HE give me away,”  screamed Roberto’s inside childhood voice.  “HE” was Dad, clear across the world on the weekends.  Never his face cheering from  the court stands on the weekends.  The classroom would look calm; pretty quiet as students worked individually on their exercises.  Roberto’s outside self fit right in this scene.  His good grades, politeness to adults, quirky humor made him likable.  Deflected his anger.  So did his tennis arm.

John was okay, though he wasn’t Dad.  They did tech experiments together. Sometimes, Roberto could let himself believe these were cool and fun.  John  liked trees, too.  He even knew REI’s aisles.  He was almost the loudest yell from the stands.  Showed at the school’s family night.  But, he didn’t play sax.  didn’t  fart and cause an instant call.  In fact, probably only farted in bathrooms.

He just wasn’t Dad.  Sometimes, maybe Roberto could like this guy with a dull whiteman’s name.  Yeah, Mom had married John and they were on a one-way United flight to DC within the month.   John had already landed a senior partner position at a top DC law firm.  Dad had signed his okay to jet Roberto to a new home.  Stepdad John liked trees, too, like Dad. He even new REI’s aisles by memory.  But he wasn’t Dad.  Couldn’t be Dad.

Now, Roberto, turning 45, is stuck in a big career decision.  He’s being considered for a position as big as his leadership ability looks  to others.  Problem is, Roberto know’s he’s stuck a bit in his past.  He also knows as a result of our work together, that past connects with the present and with the future.  Unresolved emotional business will eventually leak into the present or future.  Just as he’s preparing to sit in tall chair of hi-level leadership, he’s up to his knees in a flood of childhood’s painful memories.  This flood can dilute his abilities.  Coaching threw him an innertube….then the lifejacket.

Ever hope an innertube would float into range?