General Musings, Life change

2018

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It’s the first day of 2018, a host of resolutions,  a sense of renewal and the determination to change are the drivers for this post.

2018 is a mere date change.  Yet its promise of future, of potential possibilities is enticing.

If there was a score to be made I would achieve 10 out of 10  for living these past few months in my head; ideas, concepts, shared learnings, potential, all swirling around.  And with the exception of November where I designed, developed and delivered an intercultural values, norms and subconscious bias workshop to a group of Eastern Caribbean and British co-workers,  there has been little co-learning or sharing of  skills and knowledge (a strong personal value).  This blog has been silent, the pages left blank as the priority has been working my way through inertia, culture shock,  daily life and busyness.

It’s so easy to get lost, so easy to get stuck.  Despite good intentions, I’ve spent more hours thinking of what to write than getting on and getting it down.  I’ve read LinkedIn posts and thought of responses which may counter-argue or enhance the points being made and yet remained silent.  I’ve stayed indoors instead of going out.  I’ve prioritised small actions and deeds instead of making good on ideas which may bring results. I self-justify; ” I’m travelling (UK twice, then USA) or moving home and life (an international then 3 months later, domestic relocation) or focusing on helping  Craig and Roscoe settle into their new positions in a new country and environment.  I’m at the emergency hospital 4 times so have to care for the injured Roscoe, I’m at the vet three times so have to care for the poorly Monty” .  Yes, I get 11 out of 10 for excuses. Where is my medal?

Truth is these are my choices.  Directly or indirectly this is how I’ve chosen to spend my time.  There is no blame, no circumstances that help me expunge  how I’ve lived these past few months.  I’ve been stuck in my bubble, wallowing in its silence and peace.  A less stressful, slower life beat.  An opportunity to pause, to breathe, to observe.  I focus on family, I make good on my promises.  I am grateful and fortunate yet at the same time still unfulfilled.

Truth is this Presbyterian Scottish work-ethic  is hard to shake.  It’s a struggle  to accept that I’m not out in the world, helping businesses, corporations and their people succeed.  I value my contribution to this part of my life almost as much as I value my contribution to myself and my family.

Previously I’ve found it hard to stitch these two parts of my soul together.  And when I’ve  tried, the result was a distant relationship with husband and child, then corporate burnout followed closely by cancer.  I’ve spent the last two years looking inward and living my lessons learned,  recreating strong connections to Craig and Roscoe,  focusing on becoming healthier and better, letting go of the old corporate BS while retaining all I’ve absorbed and learned along the way.   Slowly, I’m knitting together an alternative with the unshakable belief that when we take control of our choices it’s possible to change for good.

So the symbolism in a change of date, the opportunity in a move from 7 to 8, creates the impetus of changing how I manage to connect these two parts of me in a way which is sustainable and healthy.  And the purpose of writing this publicly means my feet are to the fire and I become accountable for making it happen.

In 2018 I’ll  be sharing my successes, failures and learnings  in this blog as I attempt to successfully combine working in a totally new environment with my commitment to my family.

If you want to know how I’m doing, follow the blog.  I promise it won’t be dull…

Engaging people, General Musings, Life change

Mind your language

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Roscoe is one of those children who works hard at staying just on the right side of the rules.  So when he was a slip of a boy I became concerned about the amount of his school mates who apparently were using the  ‘F word”.  Upon some gentle probing, it turned out that in the world of Roscoe this word was “idiot”.

Years later and still trying to inspire him to read books and so improve his command of the  English language, as well as laugh through my speech therapy, we devise a game to only be played with all the windows up in the car; to go through the alphabet and shout at the top of our voices all the profanities we know that begin with that particular letter.  What a stress relief, and so much fun, as all the naughty words that would never normally be spoken are expressed joyfully and with impunity.

IMG_0782He knows these words are not to be used in everyday conversation but it seems to be a right of passage of teenagedom to ‘talk dirty’ in front of your friends.  I stand on the cliff top this evening watching him learn to surf with a bunch of school friends and the winds carry a clear bell tone of colour which causes an inward wince. Occasionally, he will use a colloquialism for a body part or sexual act and always I try to ignore it, so the word loses its power.

For words are powerful, and used often enough they gradually become part of the lexicon.  So I am not surprised to see the chants of ‘Fake News’ against some of our media outlets in the UK.  The concept has taken hold.  But I’m shocked that Laura Kuenssberg, the BBC political editor, has to bring a close protection bodyguard so she can do her job and report from the British Labour Party conference.  Since when can reporting and often repeating the words being used at party political conferences create such hatred as to incite serious death threats?  What is happening to our democracy?

I’m guessing the same factions are responsible for hateful banners spewing slogans such as ‘Hang the Tories’ and for the need for police cordons and tear gas due to the violent demonstrations at the Conservative Party conference last week.

I am no fan of either political persuasion and have no affinity for any political party, preferring to vote at the time for those who I think will be best for our country and democracy in the following 5 years.  I’ve never slavishly followed a pop band, artist or team to the extent that I lose common sense or a broader belief in the good of humanity.  But the words and rhetoric being used by people, often those in positions of power and authority,  and then regurgitated across the slew of social media channels is starting to shift many peoples’ perceptions of common decency.  What is interesting is this language – its pattern, tone and style – belongs in the playground where children call each other idiots.

IMG_0780All good communicators know it’s harder to write headlines for the Redtops than the Broadsheets, to appeal to the working man as well as his middle manager. But it’s a lazy communicator who chooses to appeal just to the masses, as the herd mentality will never create a long-term sustainable solution; they become too preoccupied with belonging.  Great ideas and solutions come from thinking differently and speaking out; even if people disagree with a decision or view, if it’s explained well and understood, there is a better chance of bringing people together and of their working for the greater good.  Understanding your audience and communicating thoughts and ideas to those who may not be of your political persuasion, education or social class is a real skill.  Done well, it can shift thinking and perception.

But the audience itself has to be prepared to listen; communication is a two-way dialogue.  Currently there seems to be a shift away from informed arguments using a wide array of language and proper terminology towards  a style of populist simplified language and discourse.  Trump is a fabulous example of this.  The educated classes snigger about “bigly”, “believe me”, “sad”  and the corresponding staccato short sentences and rambling colloquial speeches.  But love him or loathe him, he connects.  The American heartland have someone they believe represents them.  Contrast this with the oratory power of Tony Blair who before Iraq was considered to be one of our more persuasive statesmen.  He puts forward a very reasoned argument for remaining in the European Union but his way of communicating his thoughts and ideas – correct terminology,  longer sentence length, and elegant phrasing of concepts and ideas,  the very patterns of his speech demonstrate his knowledge and experience yet makes him sound out of touch with populist sentiment.

The world has become smaller with the use of the smartphone.  Twitter often shares breaking news faster than the news wires, 240 characters of information or 2 minutes of video hits screens around the world as events happen.  The audience begins to accept this is how they consume their news.  They begin to believe that they don’t t have time to sit and read a long explanation of facts, detail and informed opinion.  And when the 24 hour news channels churn out yet another panel of never heard of before ‘experts’, how many of the audience switch off their listening capacity?

But this can be dangerous when you are trying to educate and connect with big concepts – Brexit; foreign policy relations with North Korea; Middle East politics; GDP deficits; economic drift; gun control; the need to change prime ministers and presidents; big business versus the European Union…

These are concepts and issues which require reasoned thinking, strong debate and informed intellect,  They require a balanced tone of voice and language accessible enough for all to understand.  They require credible voices not populist rhetoric and sound bites.

The combination of social media, smart phone usage, Trump and an increasing proliferation of 3 minute sound bite reporting, is beginning to change our language and our tolerance for listening to and considering alternative arguments.  News reports, satirical TV shows, social media updates are becoming simplified, more partisan, more divisive.  And every news report which contains obvious bias weakens our democracy and the opportunities to raise our children to think beyond narrow confines.  Rich, informed and expressive discourse does much more than convey a story – it sets a tone, provides a social structure and enables a sense of belonging while allowing healthy division and debate.

Guarding our democracy and the right to informed free thinking and speech is what our grandparents and great grandparents fought for.  It is woven into the very fabric of our modern-day life.  So let’s stay away from indifference, divisive language and belittlement.   The language we choose to speak, the language we choose to listen to, the language we chose to emulate and pass on is  our responsibility,  Let’s not leave it to others to shape our society and the world view,

IMG_0786

Let’s not be idiots.

 

 

 

General Musings, Life change

In transition

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We’ve had a bit of a wake up call.  Our happy go lucky, ‘get stuck right in’ boy has been struck with huge waves of homesickness.  Through the body shakes and tears I listen to the sobbing distress my heart breaking as I cuddle him tight.  This is his journey, I cannot ignore it or make light of his feelings, this is a time for reassurance, trust, love.  Together we acknowledge these feelings and sensations are normal and that ‘tears out’ rather than ‘sadness in’ is a healthier way to manage.  I am learning that I cannot move him on from his missings towards his forward hopes too quickly. Together we acknowledge just what and more importantly for him, who, he has left behind.  Then we speak of the good times and the memories that make us both laugh.  I listen to the talk of what is missing or wrong with where we are before I steer the conversation towards what we’re going to do tomorrow and what he hopes to do this year.  Sometimes,  this cycle is repeated twice, three times before the sobbing stops.  Always I am reminded that these are the experiences which will make my boy an empathetic, loving man.  I know that these challenging times are what shapes him – not the surf lessons , the football or golf, the paddle boarding or sunset dog walking.  It’s the tough stuff; finding your place and way at the new school; being open with your emotions and asking for help; dealing with name calling from insecure older boys; knowing who to trust and who to avoid; managing tricky situations. And through all of this, I see glimpses of the man he’s going to become and I am heartened.  This boy-child is already dealing with transitions that many adults would struggle with and he’s doing so with openness and grace, with humility and patience, through tears and laughter.  I know, even if he doesn’t yet, that he will be a well-balanced, fabulous human being.  That each tricky situation builds his character and generates more inner resilience.  These life skills cannot be taught in a classroom, they must be lived.

Over the summer I’ve had girlfriends deal with children who did not achieve the exam results they hoped for, or school places where they would have contributed far more than mere academic achievement.  I firmly believe that when a child learns disappointment and has to manage the accompanying peer group pressure, it’s an opportunity to develop backbone, drive and stamina. A life shaping opportunity.  Those who sail on through, whether by hard work, chance or luck miss out somehow.

Learned through 30 years of  work, I know skills and knowledge can be taught and passed on but if aptitude and attitude is missing then there is little hope of further development or progression.  Attitude and aptitude are forged in times of crisis, disappointment, hurt. How you choose in the moment, to deal with upset, trauma and fear says a lot about your personality and resilience.  As mentors, parents, life coaches or guides, we best serve by acknowledging difficult experiences and  talking about what can be learned for next time; by listening –  not judging, shouting nor fixing.  By standing by with the belay, ready to break the fall, not stop it from happening.

Our lives consist of memories and stories.  Great times and sad times. Joys and disappointments.  What we choose to learn and remember and how we choose to deal with any life situation is what shapes our very humanness.  In nurturing my growing boy-man, riding the waves of his homesickness with him, I’m painfully casting my tiger mummy skin.

We are both in transition.

 

General Musings, Life change

Full circle

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We’ve now been on the island for nearly 6 weeks, experiencing crop over carnival, first days at work and school, our first tropical storm and coordinating efforts to support those devastated by hurricane Irma.  It’s not been dull.

Life here is not the chocolate box pictures of the colourful chattel houses, the palm fringed beaches, the friendly welcoming service orientated locals.  This is not the real Barbados, these images are tourist Barbados.  A deception sustained for short bursts of time – enough time for visitors to get off and back on the plane.  Real Barbados is much more complex and far more interesting.  An island currently experiencing a seismic shift in its culture and attitudes, where hard decisions need to be made to create sustainable changes so as to reinvigorate a flagging economy and shift antiquated working practices.

The  first time I came to this island, many moons ago, was in the company of my boyfriend of the time – a  Barbadian boy who had flown to London to run away from the shadow of his successful twin brothers and the family name. He took me back home to meet his family and we lived like chirpy locals for a few weeks.  He drove his borrowed family car like a recklessly blind crazy boy,  we devoured flying fish, plantain, macaroni pie, chicken roti, baked breadfruit, rice and peas, in all the local spots.  We drank rum punch on the Jolly Roger even though I was teetotal and could barely stand at the end of the day.  It was here I had my first encounter with flying cockroaches who seemed to wait until I was in the shower before they would helicopter in and attempt to land in my hair  ( I still go weak kneed when I see one).  And it was here I was first bitten by mosquitos and directly applied the juice from the aloe plant to the bite.  Flying to Barbados was the first time I had been on a plane, the first time I had been out of the UK.

Although this relationship didn’t last, it gave birth to an enduring deep friendship.  Through the then boyfriend I met Jen, another Barbadian living in London.  A vivacious, intelligent,funny, bright and beautiful woman, we bonded straight away and have subsequently seen each other through many life traumas, joys and excitements.  I was delighted when Jenny agreed to be Roscoe’s Godmother and he loves her like his second Mummy.  And as a result of her gentle Bajan lilt and his relationship with her, he can decipher a lot of what is being said to him in town today.

When Craig was private secretary to David Triesman, Minister for Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, we had the opportunity to join him at the end of one of his interminable trips away.  So I brought an 18 month old Roscoe on his first long distance plane trip,  to meet his Daddy in …Barbados.   It was in Barbados that Roscoe had his first experience of the sea, swimming with turtles in an ocean so clear that you could see each one bobbing and diving along side his chubby little toddler legs.  It was at the beach by the Hilton Barbados that he first stuck his toes into soft warm sand and paddled waist deep in the warm salty sea water.  It was Barbados that helped the sea seduce my child, where he first awkwardly jiggled his hips to soca music and where he first felt sun so hot that his skin now goes berry brown instead of Scottish raspberry red.

It seems obvious that we are meant to be here now; where in times of  crisis, Craig’s calm, clear and decisive decision-making provides stability, direction and stewardship; where my change skills and knowledge will help make a difference to people and organisations keen to do things differently; where our son will shift from boy to young man.

Barbados is threaded into our family story, where we take our past and weave it into our present. It’s a lesson that change is all about perception.  If we are open to learnings, connections and patterns, to growth and flow then what seems like big stuff actually turns out to be a continuation of our evolutionary story . Perhaps life is not about circles but adaptive figures of eights.

General Musings, Life change

A simple question, really.

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I’m tucked inside with the AC on full blast, looking out at the sun shadows cast from the large palm trees on the veranda.  Meanwhile Monty dog is ‘spatchcock golden retriever’ on the kitchen floor doing his best impression of a breathing fur rug, Roscoe is currently hanging out on a beach with a bunch of Bajan 16 year- old babes and Craig is busy being important somewhere in town.

Its been quite a few months to get to this point.  in truth, its been quite a few years and I’m thankful to the Universe for creating this opportunity for us to heal and grow as a family unit again.

But the shiny outside does not portray the learnings going on inside.

It’s very, very odd to be here as the wife/Mother/supporter of.  As a couple we have not been this way for 12 years.  Actually in truth, it’s not been this way ever before.  When we met, I’d already been in Uganda for several years  and had profitable working business relationships with the Presidents of both Uganda and Rwanda as well as being in and out of the boardrooms of several multi-national corporations based across Africa.  A few years later, we arrive back in the UK while I’m heavily pregnant with Roscoe,   6 months on, I’m in Vodafone forging a revised UK corporate career which keeps me busy for the next decade.

Fast forward almost 13 years and I find myself with dust on the floor, beds which need changing and thinking about what to cook for dinner.  The pile of ironing seems to grow by looking at it and the dark coloured faux- wood furniture so beloved of any British government property, seems to mark when any insect, and there are many, many insects here, land upon it.  I’m finding out that keeping house is harder in so many ways than going out to work.  I’m also discovering that my perfectionist tendencies manifest large on a home which is entirely covered  in white tiles and white walls.  And having arrived in hurricane season to a garden which can quickly resemble a mud pit with a 6 month old puppy and a boy who would live in sand and sea if he could, I’m fighting a losing battle in trying to keep the darned place semi-clean. I’ve decided that hiring someone to come in twice a week is the only way I’m going to stay slightly sane.

 

For my other, much larger, battle is with myself.  Forging a different identity from the one I have  held onto for all my working adult life, is tricky.  It’s hard not to qualify my sense of self when being introduced to new people.   What is my self now?  And I realise in my old life how often I defined myself by what I do.  And now I am open-skinned-bare and I’ve an introductory 10 seconds to show up and be who I am.

It strikes me that who and how rather than what and when defines the difference between leaders and managers.  A leader sets the parameters of the task and who is responsible.  A manager decides how the  task is done.  Craig and I often argue when I delegate the task and then tell him how I want it done.  And he is right to push back.   I realise it’s often my perfectionist OCD which  pulls me right back into manager mode.  When you meet Senior leaders or Presidents, they rarely introduce themselves by their title or explain what they do.  They use their names and let it settle.  A title is everything and nothing. What counts  and demonstrates the mark of the wo/man are their behaviours and actions.  Words come easy but it’s their meaning and associated results which make the difference.

Today I met a senior representative of Unicef at her rather palatial home tucked away in a leafy exclusive enclave of Bridgetown.  She gives me her card which states her name and written underneath is ‘A representative of Unicef’.   This rather egalitarian approach really appeals to me and my transforming sense of identity.

I know I need to get comfortable in the skin I’m in.  Not finding my role yet, or a title, doesn’t change who I am.  I know I can turn up to official functions and be the “wife of”, or go to the school and be the “Mother of” and the changing of hats to facilitate and integrate is a healthy way of being part of the community.

But beyond the hats, the clothes, the image, the plastered on smiley face, lies a big question with an answer somewhere close but elusive.  Who am I now?

Ask yourself this question.

Who are you?

It’s  a much bigger question than “what do you do?”  A much more meaningful question.

Perhaps I will start asking this while making the obligatory small talk at the official functions. Perhaps the answers I hear will help me clarify my own answer.

Perhaps you can help me with your answer….

 

A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you or I!)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair,
(We called her the woman who did not care),
But the fool he called her his lady fair—
(Even as you or I!)

Rudyard Kipling, The Vampire, 1897

Changes created by the cancer adventure, General Musings, Life change

Stuff and things

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When I don’t write out my thoughts and ideas,  they live in my head and sometimes grow to scarily gargantuan bubbles of nonsense which pop! when I eventually sit at the keyboard.

The concept of ideas coming to me, like invisible atoms, all joining up for a transient, coalescent moment is both comforting and frustrating.  My subconscious is telling me to make time.  I need to pay more attention.

I’ve been lost in the land of doing for the past 3 months. In just over a week, we board a plane to start our 4 year Caribbean adventure and I’ve been head buried; organising, sorting and packing up our UK life and preparing everyone for the sunshine and showers of the next chapter.  Time, which seemed so plentiful when we first heard this news, is now travelling at warp speed.  People I wanted to see, places I wanted to go, things I wanted to do, well it just won’t happen, not for now anyway.

On the bright side, I’m not gone too long as I need to return to the UK on a regular basis to see the Maxillofacial consultant.  My two-year cancer anniversary looms in December and statistically, if you chose to believe such numbers, the chance of a recurrence drops dramatically after this point.  I’m quietly, mentally counting down to my visit on December 6 and trying to manage my cortisol levels as I singularly manage our move.

Everything in our home requires a decision.  It goes to Barbados.  It goes into store. It goes out.  I have removed a decision point by the packers being in so many items have already gone.  I’m struck at how much stuff and how still attached to stuff I am.  This move is teaching me to really begin to practice letting go. I’m hoping in 4 years time I’ll  be kicking myself for still hoarding all the bits and pieces that have already gone into store and to enjoy the process of throwing most of it away.


The far-too-early snuffed life force of Charlie Rees gives me daily perspective when all of my plans, preparations and activities seem out of control.   I’m grateful to be here each day, to be stressing about the nonsense of items which provide rich memories of people and places, of life and love.  I’m blessed to enjoy paintings and music, to warble-sing to good-time tunes, to walk uninterrupted across miles of verdant countryside with the dog pulling at my company, to uproariously laugh with my increasingly smart and funny Roscoe, to spend time with my fabulous girlfriends.  I don’t take any of this for granted.  Not any more.

Charlie gave me this gift and I remember and thank her daily for it.

The gift of knowing the difference between the stuff of life and a life of stuff.

Changes created by the cancer adventure, General Musings

The ones that got away

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So I was in the midst of a post about loss and belonging which I thought I’d finish today and then I woke up to yet another terrorist incident in London Bridge.  And this old post, in less than 24 hours, seems oddly out of date.  No one can make sense of what is happening in our world, it seems to be tilting on its axis.  And words written one day don’t translate the next.  Or in case of Trump,  words of bile and hate tweeted in one second, seem petty and deliberately cruel and divisive when there is a call for a more collective coming together, led by London’s Muslim mayor, Sadiq Khan.

Of course the joker of the free world will not tune into the spirit of what is happening in the UK tonight.  It does not suit his purpose to bring religions, tribes, people together, with the sole purpose of love for humanity.  The people in Manchester and London who  turn out in their thousands, stand in brave defiance of any act of terrorism.  They choose to not be cowed in the face of mad extremism. They turn up, young and old, girls and boys, men, women and gender neutral, gay, straight.  Christian’s, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus. Atheists   –  no matter how they define themselves – they stand together across our country.  Remarkably so many enjoying the concert in Manchester tonight are the ones who got away two weeks ago.

For survivors, after the initial shock, there comes confusion and anger, fear, relief and a heightened sense of emotion, of aliveness and purpose.  These emotions will crash together for a long time  so you live in a sea of swirling sickness.  A bringing together is cathartic, a chance to share the collective grief, relief and guilt.  Why them, not me?  What is the meaning of this? How can I live my life with greater purpose?  How can I learn and grow from this experience?  How do I rejoice in this greater connection?

Three weeks ago I lost a mentoree.  I met Charlie last October, shortly after her mouth cancer diagnosis.  A beautiful, feisty, single Mum, her 12 year old son, Tyler, would come and hang out and play X-box with Roscoe as Charlie and I holed up and I talked her off the ledge and towards her operation and recovery.  We discussed how she was going to raise awareness of mouth cancer and decided on vlogging  as Charlie’s personality and looks made her a powerful advocate for people to stop and pay attention.

That first night, Charlie showed me her cancer and talked a lot about death and her fears for Tyler’s future.  Over the course of the following weeks it was a subject she would return to and I, who never considered the possibility when given my own diagnosis,  would talk her round and get her to look long forward.

Only Charlie proved me wrong.  Despite everything; her fierce love for her son, her advocacy, the sheer strength and will of those family and friends who held her, comforted her and challenged her to keep on, her body gave up and she died early on Saturday morning.

And I am bobbing in the stormy sea of survivor’s guilt.  There’s no sense to be made.  Sometimes you can be in the wrong place at the wrong time, sometimes it is just your time.  And for those of us left behind,  we need to find the words through the guilt and fear, the relief and gratitude, to explain how we feel and what we’re thinking and to reach out for help, support and love.

And those living with and loving the ones who are fortunate enough to have got away, please remember healing takes time and happens in many forms.  The single most powerful thing you can do is put your own judgement and fear to one side and just listen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life change, Metaphors and Stories

Commitment

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It’s our wedding anniversary today.  And for the second year running, I remember and give Craig a card (nothing too soppy though – we’re not that kind of couple!).

We’re spending the day with dear friends who were around when we met in Kampala and who also credit Uganda as their ‘coming together’ place.  It’s lovely to reminisce and catch up  –  and several times today I hear stories and remember memories I’d forgotten but which come flooding back in full colour as more detail is added.   This jolting of recall is a magical anniversary gift.    Taking us all back to what feels like simpler days.  Those were the days which were just about us, no complication of children, mortgages, pets or juggling life.  As I reflect, I’m grateful that I waited for Craig.  I kissed princes, frogs and a few others, along the way but by the time I said “I do”, I was ready.

It’s very hard to know if you should ever tell a loved one that they are making a wrong decision.  Craig’s Mum had no such compunction and she made her feelings very clear about his choice of life partner.  In fact on our wedding day, the only words she uttered in my direction were to tell me to get the band to turn the sound down as she couldn’t hear herself speak to her friends!  But saying nothing is almost easier than stepping up to the plate.  So I admire May Fulton’s honesty although it’s obvious to me now that it wasn’t personal; no woman would ever have been good enough for her wee boy.

I’ve always valued honesty in my girlfriends and I’ve tried to reciprocate wherever I can.  However, I almost lost a close girlfriend by telling her she was making a mistake by saying yes to a man unworthy of her.   Even though, many years later, they’re still together, it’s not a union that could be described as happy or harmonious.  And it’s clear to me now that so many of the life choices we make are not us knowing the ‘right’ decision but are instead dictated by time and circumstance.  My Mum used to say, “if in doubt, don’t”.  I’ve lived my life with this running through my head, which may account for my multiple engagements yet only one wedding day.  Sometimes all it takes is a bit more time for the right choice to become clear.

So saying I have other dear friends who knew very quickly that they’d found their life partner.  It took us girl friends a bit longer to come to the same conclusion and I’m often reminded of my prediction that their union would not last.  Eighteen years, two children and an international relocation later, they are still very much together.  And I’m very delighted to be wearing so much egg on my face.

So while I’m basking in old memories, I think back to the day when I said yes.   I honestly don’t know the exact date; I scarcely remember our wedding anniversary – but  I do remember we first kissed on 12 July 2002 in the gardens of plot 11, Roscoe road, Kampala.    Fast forward a couple of years and we’re enjoying a lunch time picnic in the gardens of the Baha’i temple.  Despite living in Uganda for 6 years I’ve never been here and I’m sorry for not having made the trip sooner.    The entire place emanates a sense of harmonious peace and tranquillity.  Located in its own 52 acres site on Kikaaya hill, it’s about 7 km from the city centre and today the view of the city is crisp and clear, the noise and bustle seeming hundreds of miles away.  The temple itself is a nine sided building designed to represent unity of all faiths.  Its golden brick gleams in the sunlight and the green 44ft diameter dome stretches 130ft into the blue cloudless sky.   After a leisurely wander around the temple, we sit in the well manicured garden,  shaded by a large tree.  I fuss around with eats and drinks all the while thinking Craig is quietly subsumed by the serenity and peace of the place.  Below us a group of school children are listening intently to their lessons, the sound of the African lilt coming from the teaching nuns is being carried upwards in the light breeze. Craig jolts me out of my revere with a meaningful speech about there only being seven Baha’i  temples in the world.  That’s one for every continent so we’re sitting  in a most special place in Africa, a place where all faiths and beliefs come together under the larger concept of humanity.  He says some other lovely things and by the end of his discourse I’ve agreed to make a lifetime commitment and I’m wearing a stunning diamond on the 3rd finger of my left hand.  Of course we hug and kiss and then look up to face an irate nun, angrily admonishing us for such a public display of affection in a holy place.  We apologise and listen to a long lecture about the sanctity of innocence and the need to avoid encouraging the virginal young minds down the hill into wanton ‘harlotedness’

We decide not to tell her that we’ve just got engaged.  My alien bump is protruding large from my belly.

That alien bump wraps his arms around me, bringing  me back to now.  His Daddy looks up and smiles at us both.

Lifetime decisions can sometimes be made in a heartbeat.  Or they can marinade until there is a gleaming guiding light.   In my case, tapping into the inner voice of truth took some courage and blind faith.   I’m so glad I listened and said “I do”  those dozen years ago.

Happy Anniversary Craigie, here’s to our next adventure…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life change

Change from the ruf’

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We are  in a hotel room somewhere in Yorkshire.  In two hours time, we’re turning our lives upside down as we take charge of the new addition to our family, an 8 week old Golden Retriever puppy who we have decided to name Montgomery a.k.a Monty.

Monty brings order to our chaos.  There is some system and routine to our daily lives but not enough so that we feel constrained or tied.  We love our flexibility, the opportunity to decide on the spur of the moment, the toss of a coin, the text or call making a suggestion to meet.  We are not the family that books our holiday a year in advance, rather the one that pays exorbitant money to go somewhere decided at the last moment.

This kind of life is not for all.  It’s a rollercoaster of thrills and excitement, of  seize the day adventure and life stomping. Of living in the moment, being in the present.   But it also brings stress and disappointment and expense.  It takes being sick for a while to create the awareness that living this way makes me ill and unsettled and to realise it’s time to make a change.

So after a mound of reading and research into how to train and manage what’s  going to be a 65lbs animal which doesn’t talk, sheds hair daily with great abandon, which slobbers and slurps, demands food every hour,  brings in mud and dirt from every outside excursion and swims at every opportunity, I’m ready.  On the basis that I’ve already got  a tweenager demonstrating all of these characteristics, adding a dog to the mix hardly seems daunting.

 

The change Monthy brings is to our behaviour.  We can’t just jump on the train or get in the car on a whim.  A 4 hour feeding regime combined with the resulting expulsion, regulates our day.  Added to which we’re unable to spend hours on social media or in Roscoe’s case his beloved weekend treat, his X box,  as the ‘wee’ dog needs our attention, our time and love. Monty dog forces us to think ahead, to structure and plan our time.  He makes us form habitual patterns to our lives rather than the chaotic whiff of panic, last minuteness and resulting lateness which has emanated from our four walls these past years.

And I don’t think this is going to be easy.  For Craig and I this type of stress has become habitual DNA.  For Roscoe, living this way is all he’s really known.  But for this bouncy, blonde bundle to turn into a well behaved, obedient animal, we are going to have to grit our teeth and get into a consistent routine.

In return we’re going to have oodles of love and adoration and what I’m sure will be many insights to share on this blog.

 

 

Engaging people, General Musings, Life change

Magic moments

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Imagine, just for a moment, you are Brian Cullinan, chairman of PwC’s US Board and Managing Partner of PwC’s Southern California, Arizona and Nevada Market.  You’ve played a part in a really successful evening; a slight blip when the production team included a picture of a still-living producer in its ‘in-memoriam’ segment but, aside from this, everything has flowed and gone to plan, just as in rehearsals.  You are beginning to relax.  Fourth year in, you recognise the climactic moments of the show are beginning to unfold.  Its 21.03 PT and Warren Beatty strolls to the podium, opens the envelope you’ve just given him, looks confused, shows his consort and gives a half laugh.  Faye Dunaway’s response is to blurt out a complete fabrication, information which is not written on the card that Beatty is holding.

Credit: Phil McCarten/AMPAS

Beatty looks dumbfounded.   Neither of them have asked for clarification, they are both in full acting mode  This is not what the card says.  He knows it, you know it, Faye Dunaway knows it and your colleague, Martha Ruiz knows it.  For 30 seconds you are the only people in a  live, world-wide, televised show who know the information just shared is wrong.  Time stands still.   Your blood pressure is rising, your heart rate has increased, the palms of your hands are suddenly sweaty, you’re feeling sick, your mouth is dry, your back and shoulder muscles are tense,  you’re beginning to tremble, you want to run to the bathroom.  Your fight, flight or freeze responses have all gone into hyper-drive.  This is stress.  This is anxiety.  The wrong people are showing up on stage, yes you did hear it right.  Years of  studying, training, hard graft, years of audit, M&A and leadership experience are thrown up in the air.  You look at the envelope in your hand and the envelope in Beatty’s hand and slowly your pre-frontal cortex starts to kick in; you’ve passed on the wrong information. You’ve given Beatty the wrong envelope.  And the western world is watching the resulting chaos in real-time.

10 hours later, you haven’t really slept.  You’ve helped craft the company statement, taken full responsibility, talked it over and over and over again.  In fact, you’ve re-lived and continue to re-live the process.  You are keenly aware that protocols were not followed fast enough, corrections not made quickly enough.  Beatty is talking to the press a-plenty; Dunaway has run-away  and does not seem to be taking any responsibility.   Your personal credibility and the company reputation is on the line.  Pictures of you tweeting back stage are all over the web.  You know, more than anyone, just how serious this is from a brand and reputation perspective.   The company is still standing by you and then,  the client, the AMPAS president, Cheryl Boone Issacs, tells the Associated Press  that you and  Ruiz have been fired and will not participate in future shows. You are shattered.

Just how does this statement and action affect the perception of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences?   I look up the Glass door reviews for AMPAS for some insight and based on the employee ratings and comments, this action is consistent with the current leadership culture.  Reading these unedited employee comments, it comes as no surprise that the President is now reviewing the entire relationship with PwC.   A much more powerful leadership stance could have been created by a statement along the lines of:

We accept PwCs apology for the grave error that was made during Sunday’s show and are working with them to learn from this and ensure this will not be repeated.  We respect our 83-year long relationship and look forward to working together to continuously improve the processes and procedures which make the OSCARS the annual best award celebration in our industry.

Just imagine what potential employees would think if they saw such a statement; how great talent would be attracted to a career in AMPAS, people who could see they could contribute and enhance the organisation.  Imagine how existing employees would feel to read this, how many more ideas and innovations and contributions would be put forward.   Instead, the opportunity is missed, the opinions of the existing employees are reinforced and the current culture is laid bare for the world to see.    Because, when you boil it down, no one died or was hurt in the process, perhaps with the exception of pride and ego.  And perhaps the person who is most diminished by this situation is AMPAS President, Cheryl Boone-Isaacs.

By shooting those who make the mistakes, the learnings are lost and the opportunity to build loyalty and respect are gone.   Trust is built in such moments.  Moments like these are where magic happens, where people move forward and perform at their best because they know they have support  and encouragement to learn and grow.

Satya  Nadella, Microsoft CEO, knows about building these moments,  of leading and engaging teams who are trying their very best.

A year ago Microsoft developed an AI Twitter bot by the name of Tay (officially, Tay.ai).  to communicate and learn from the millennial generation.  Very quickly this turned into a disastrous attempt to advance how artificial intelligence communicates with humans in real-time.  Hackers and others were able to transform Tay into a racist, profane-spewing cyber-bot and the results took Twitter by storm.  This had great potential to damage the Microsoft brand reputation.  But they acted quickly and in less than a day the programme was removed and an official apology was issued by Peter Lee – Corporate Vice President, Microsoft Research .  This was a great apology.  Perhaps a little over long but it clearly explained this was cutting edge, innovative work and they were going to take their experiences and build on their lessons learned.

So now imagine you are one of the Tay team, you’ve worked years on this, giving up evenings and weekends with loved ones because this is a genuinely exciting, cutting edge project.  You really believed in the opportunity, you know that a similar programme in China,  the XiaoIce chatbot is being  enjoyed by some 40 million people so you are devastated when Tay is hacked and her potential is destroyed. And you’re really upset that she has not worked the way you hoped and may have caused some people great distress.   Then you get an email from your CEO and it says ,

“Keep pushing, and know that I am with you … (The) key is to keep learning and improving.”

Wow!  How amazing!  So what are you going to do next?  How can you take what you’ve learned from working on Tay, and what subsequently happened to her  and create something better, even more exciting and more life changing?

Perhaps if we purposefully choose to not operate in a culture of fear, blame and litigation, and chose instead to work with companies   where we  acknowledge and learn from mistakes, or potential mistakes, without fear, blame or recrimination;  organisations where it’s regarded as the norm to co-create concepts and ideas with others without being undermined or threatened;  places where we really listen to and give learning feedback to others so we all develop and grow,  perhaps then we create lasting extraordinary opportunities and a better place for all.

Image: Flickr user Ed Schipul
 

For those curious about change