Whose Map Are We Following?

The Traveler With All the Maps

Seventeen very good maps

The Traveler carried seventeen maps. Hard-won maps. Maps with muddy corners and warnings like DO NOT TAKE THIS SHORTCUT. TRUST ME. and THE GREAT MOSQUITO INCIDENT. They had learned so much. Surely some of it could save another Traveler a difficult journey.

At a crossroads, someone accepted a map, thanked the Traveler, and went another way. The map-carrier wondered whether a better map might help.

To the Ends of the Earth

One more map

Across mountains and swamps went the map-carrier, collecting books, resources, diagrams, and one truly excellent new route. They returned shouting, “I FOUND IT!” An unsolicited visitor center soon followed. There may even have been a gift shop.

Still, the other Traveler didn't take the route. Maybe they weren't ready. Maybe they wanted to explore. Maybe the map didn't fit their destination. The map-carrier didn't stop to ask.

“I can't carry all these maps,” someone observed. “I can fit one more in there. I KNOW I can.” The straps creaked. The knees buckled. THUD. Maps everywhere. From beneath the Backpack came a small voice: “...I think I could still fit one more.”

For a while, the Traveler couldn't get up. No clever explanation made the Backpack lighter.

A Story From Jenny's Trail

Almost three years of maps

Jenny spent almost three years helping her team explore Agile ways of working. She didn't invent Agile or do all that learning alone. She consulted Agile coaches, including Dan, an Agile coach, read, researched, worked through possibilities with ChatGPT, and wrote documents about experiments they might try.

There was rarely enough time in the workday, so she researched after dinner. Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night and wrote herself a note for the morning.

“Should we try this?” she would ask. Often the answer was silence. Not yes. Not no. Silence. Jenny took it as permission to try and kept going. Perhaps a cricket somewhere had accidentally become Product Owner.

She wanted to give people choices and help them become curious. At the time, she didn't question how hard she was working. She assumed she could do it. So she kept packing maps.

What Was Missing

Her own Adventure

Jenny stopped working out. She couldn't train enough to continue racing her bike. During her brand-new puppy Sassy's first month, Jenny worked ten-, twelve-, sometimes fourteen-hour days. She barely saw Sassy, who began bonding with Dan instead. It broke Jenny's heart.

Jenny was exhausted and jaded. She also caught COVID and spent months struggling with her health. Life was complicated; there wasn't a single tidy cause for everything. But her own needs had nearly vanished from her days.

Team of the Year

The floor, the puppy, and the award

Her team was up for a Team of the Year award. The day before the ceremony, there was a misunderstanding. On the day, a business call ran long. Preparing, driving, parking, and arriving at the event felt overwhelming. Jenny stayed home, not knowing whether the team had won.

She lay on the floor crying for about two hours. Baby Sassy stayed beside her.

The team won Team of the Year.

Dan said, “Only you would be on the floor crying while winning team of the year.”

It was absurd and heartbreaking. And Sassy didn't bring another map. She just stayed.

The Mirror Beside the Trail

Whose map? Whose journey?

In the imaginary forest, a Mirror leaned against a tree. Apparently walls were optional.

One Traveler could offer a wonderful map. The other could choose whether, when, and how to use it. A map might be accurate and still not be the route somebody was ready to take.

And the map-carrier had choices, too: how much time, energy, and self to spend looking for another map. Both Travelers had agency.

Have you ever received good advice you weren't ready to use? The Mirror doesn't declare anyone wrong. It invites you to look.

Back on Jenny's Trail

What do I need?

Jenny had been asking, “What else can I do to help?” Somewhere along the way, another question had gone missing: “What do I need?”

After she reached her stopping point, she began learning about boundaries, asking for what she needed, and recognizing that only she could decide when to stop working and care for herself.

Silence was not agreement. Another evening of research couldn't manufacture somebody else's curiosity. She could close the computer, ride her bike, and spend time with Sassy.

Now, when an opportunity naturally appears, she might ask, “Hey, here's something we could try. Are you interested?” If someone is, they can explore together. If not, she can let the invitation rest.

She hasn't stopped caring. She's learning to include herself among the Travelers whose journeys matter. And helping can take many forms: sharing an idea, listening, encouraging, showing up, or simply sitting beside someone. None requires spending every last piece of yourself.

Through Your Lens

Turn the Mirror toward yourself

When you're busy noticing what everyone else needs, how do you notice what you need?

Have you offered something valuable and then found yourself working harder and harder to make it useful to someone else?

What might change if their next step belonged to them and your time and energy belonged to you?

You might see yourself in the map-carrier, at the crossroads, or somewhere entirely different. Your Mirror belongs to you.

Borrowed Belief

Words to try on, or leave behind

“I have an idea, if you want it.”

“Would listening help more than advice?”

“Thank you for the map. I'm not ready for that route.”

“I care, and I need to step away for now.”

These aren't required scripts. Your words may be different. You can offer a hand. You cannot carry another Traveler.