We are pretty lucky to have a house less than a half a mile from the beach. A blessing and a curse of such proximity is that the kids and their (many!) friends use it as a base for summer fun. Our stacks of chairs, towels, and boogie boards are constantly disappearing, and the fridge is always empty, but laughter and friendship abound. We used to keep a key in a boot on the back porch for easy access, but we decided to get really high-tech and add an electronic keypad. Now, to get in, one must know the secret code.
Recently, after an arduous day of metal detecting (that’s another Morrissey Minute altogether), I found myself standing outside, staring at a keypad that had suddenly decided it was done for the day. Dead battery. No code entry. No clever workaround. Just a locked door and the quiet certainty that I wasn’t getting in anytime soon.
At first, it felt like a problem to solve. I pressed buttons anyway (just in case). I reached for my phone (of course), but realized it was inside. I looked around for the boot with the hidden key that I knew no longer existed. And then, slowly, it became clear: there was nothing to do.
So I waited.
And in that waiting—no scrolling, no planning, no reacting—I was left with something I don’t often schedule into my day: my own company.
We talk a lot—especially in the Garone Zone—about relationships. How we show up for one another. How we listen, support, and connect. But there is one relationship we tend to neglect because it doesn’t ask loudly for our attention: the relationship we have with ourselves.
Standing there, locked out, I realized I was a little out of practice.
At Crossroads, where we strive for Strong Minds and Kind Hearts, we value action—learning, doing, contributing. But there is also quiet strength in simply being. In pausing long enough to hear your own thoughts without interruption. In noticing the world around you without needing to capture or share it.
Eventually, Cindy came home, slipped effortlessly and athletically through a window, and opened the door.
Problems get solved. Batteries get replaced. Life moves on.
But that unexpected pause? That was the real entry point.
You don’t need a dead battery to try this (though it certainly gets your attention). Sometime today, give yourself five minutes with no agenda, no device, no distraction.
You may find, as I did, that being “locked out” is sometimes the very thing that lets you back in.
