Grief, Marco Polo, and Helicopters

It had been a really good day with most of my time spent in the sun while sitting on the balcony of the condo I had rented in Florida. My view consisted of the ocean, the beach, the sun, and my laptop. The soundtrack for the day was the constant hush of waves breaking the shoreline. It had been a productive day, and it was now coming to a close, but deep down I was feeling conflicted.

While my personal experiences on that day had been nothing but positive, I also had a significant number of close friends who were struggling with things like chronic medical issues, a four-legged companion who might not make it through the night, the recent loss of both parents, and a child on life support. These are heavy things and while my day was good, grief was also in the air.

Because I was at an Airbnb, I couldn’t run from my feelings. At home, I can convince myself that I really need to sweep the garage floor, or clean the baseboards, or steam clean the couch cushions at midnight. Since I didn’t have those distractions, I went out on the balcony where I heard a familiar rhythm. I looked down toward the pool and noticed five kids who were playing Marco Polo. I was eleven floors above them but the cadence of that game is easy to recognize; “Marco” .... “Polo” …. “Marco” …. “Polo.”

In that moment, this childhood game sparked a reminder for me. Marco Polo was born nearly 800 years ago. He was a European Merchant who traveled across Asia with his father and uncle. While the game does not have a clear direct connection to Marco, it has been said that he, a famed explorer, never really knew where he was going.

And now we have this silly childhood game where one person closes their eyes and yells Marco and the others yell Polo as a way to give direction and guidance while moving around a swimming pool. This is a concept that also shows up in music but it is known as a “call and response.” Often a soloist will play a line (the call) and another soloist, or the ensemble, will reply (the response.) Dueling Banjos would be an example of this technique. A call and response is a form of communication.

The game of Marco Polo seems like a good metaphor for life. In our darkest moments, we want to be able to call out and know that we aren’t alone, we want a response. As I work with teams in a wide variety of industries this seems to be a prevalent desire. We want this from our leaders, our colleagues, and our teammates. We want a response from our friends, our family, and our neighbors. We want to know we aren’t alone. When life feels dark and we yell “Marco,” hearing someone in the distance respond with “Polo” lets us know we aren’t alone.

So, there I was, on that balcony reminded by a children’s game, that when those we love and lead announce a struggle we must respond. It isn’t enough to simply hope that others know we value them. When we fail to respond we break trust, we create isolation, and we miss the opportunity to truly lead those who choose to follow us.

Later that night, I heard an unfamiliar noise outside and I returned to my balcony. I quickly noticed three helicopters that were zigging and zagging back and forth between two piers that were about four miles apart. They had their searchlights pointed toward the shore and it was obvious they were in rescue mode. Someone had called out and they responded. This is literally what it looks like to show up in a dark moment for others.

I, like Marco, have spent many days of my life not at all sure where I was going, but time and again, there were subtle moments, these little clues, or faint “Polos” in the distant air that told me I am not alone.

Wherever you are on your life journey, no matter how confused or lost you may feel, I hope the next time you call out for help there is a response that inspires you to keep going.

 And if I can help encourage you just send an email with Marco in the subject line …

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