Suspense, not surprise

I have a place in the Texas hill country. I feel safe there, centered, balanced. I don't get there as often as I would like so I always look forward to seeing what has changed since the last time I was there. I'm in a state of suspense as I make the drive, wondering what might be different. Will the grass have grown more? Will I see deer and other wildlife?

Even when I am there, I delight in the subtle changes - a notch in a doorframe I had not noticed, a new tree sprouting, a flower blooming. This suspense is a huge part of why I continue to return.

Unfortunately there are also surprises. While I feel very safe there, one morning last April I woke to find this print in the mud.

My safety had been threatened unexpectedly.

It has been over a year and I am still unnerved by it. The fear of the unknown and the concern that whatever it was might return stays with me. I spend less time outside alone at night.

Logically I know I am still safe, yet with five times more threat-seeking neurons in my brain, this fear easily overrides my logical brain and alters my behavior.

I don't remember what flower was blooming or what tree was sprouting there a year ago, but I do remember this threat.

If someone had said to me, "Tomorrow morning you will find the paw print of very large and unique creature who roams the hill country. It is not dangerous, but will pass through your property every Sunday night," I probably would have waited up to see if I could catch a glimpse of this benevolent being.

How we communicate a change establishes an environment where people either feel safe or they feel threatened. Surprises will happen - even with great planning. We cannot control how people will feel anymore we can control our own emotions. We CAN try to predict all the possible reactions and address those in advance. We CAN create suspense.

When surprises do happen and our threat responses get triggered, we CAN act quickly to reduce the threat.

Texas Parks & Wildlife pronounced this print was left by a LARGE domestic dog. I'm not sure I believe that, but it's what I tell myself when it's dark outside I've forgotten something in the car.

p.s. If anyone does know what might have left that print in the mud, I'm all ears.