Sometimes lessons come to us in the strangest ways.
We have a rather uncommon ventilation system in the barns on our dairy farm. Our barns are positive-pressure hybrid barns. They are considered hybrid because they operate as naturally ventilated barns most of the time, but when temperatures rise, they transform into mechanically ventilated systems. Most mechanical ventilation systems use negative pressure and pull air out of the building. Ours use positive pressure, pushing fresh air into the barn.
Every spring, all the fans on the farm are inspected and tested. Any fan that is not working properly gets repaired before the summer heat arrives. This year, two fans needed attention. Most of our fans are direct-drive units, and one of them required a motor replacement. The second issue involved a larger belt-driven fan in our six-row dry cow barn. After a quick inspection, I discovered it was simply missing a belt. Easy fix. Ten minutes, maximum – or so I thought.
All the fans were running while I inspected them, so I could identify any problems. Once I located the fan that was not spinning, I shut off the power to all the fans so I could replace the belt. As I walked back toward the fan, all the blades were gradually slowing down.
I stopped and stared. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Thinking I must be mistaken, I walked back and turned all the fans on again. Everything looked normal while they were running. Then I shut them off a second time and watched carefully as they slowed down. The same amazing thing happened.
There are 12 fans in that barn, and nine of them were spinning in the wrong direction.
My mind immediately flooded with questions. How could this have happened? More importantly, how could I – and many others – have walked through that barn hundreds of times over the last two years without noticing that three-quarters of the fans were running backward?
I felt foolish. Suddenly, another mystery was solved. That barn had never seemed quite as fresh as our other facilities. I always assumed it was because it was a wider six-row barn while our other barns were narrower four-row designs. It never occurred to me that the problem might be staring me directly in the face every day.
As embarrassing as the situation was, it immediately reminded me of something I recently wrote about in this column: the value of mistakes. When something unfortunate happens, the most important question is not, "Who can I blame?" The better question is, "What can I learn from this?" Besides, since I had installed the fans myself, there was no one else to blame anyway.
I learned that it is nearly impossible to determine the direction of a fan when it is operating at full speed. However, when the fan begins to slow down, its direction becomes crystal clear.
Because I am always looking for ways to learn, grow and improve, I naturally wanted to extract every possible lesson from this experience. The mistake had existed for more than two years without being detected by me or anyone else. Fortunately, it had not harmed any people or animals. Yes, it wasted electricity. Yes, it drastically reduced the effectiveness of our ventilation system. But nobody got hurt.
Still, something about the situation bothered me. We were investing time, money and energy into something that we believed was helping, when in reality it was accomplishing almost nothing. We were going through the motions, confident that things were working as intended, while producing little positive result.
After I rewired the fans, learned my lessons and forgave myself for the mistake, another question entered my mind. How many other things have I done – or am I currently doing – that I think are right but are not producing results?
I reflected on many mistakes I have made throughout my life and career. Most of those mistakes had eventually been identified, corrected and learned from. This one had gone unnoticed for more than two years.
That realization sent a small chill down my spine. What other things are happening that I simply cannot see?
Then another thought emerged, one that was even more uncomfortable. What if this thought-provoking question applied to more than farming?
What habits do I have that are quietly moving me in the wrong direction? What beliefs am I holding onto that no longer serve me? What am I doing – or failing to do – in my relationships that prevents positive outcomes? Where am I investing effort but receiving little return because I have never stopped long enough to evaluate the results?
The best way to determine whether a fan is spinning in the wrong direction is to allow it to slow down and then carefully observe. I have come to believe the same principle applies to life.
We live in a world that celebrates busyness. We rush from one responsibility to another, often moving too fast to evaluate whether our actions are producing the results we desire. Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is slow down.
Because when we slow down and observe, we may discover that some areas of our lives have been quietly moving in the wrong direction all along.
