Detail from Vincent Van Gogh, 'Self Portrait with Bandaged Ear', 1889
London, Courtauld Institute Gallery
© Photo: Bridgeman Art Library, London
Positive thoughts = positive outcomes!! It's not rocket science, yet astronauts use it.
If you have read ‘The Secret’ by Rhonda Byrne, then you will know what I am talking about and hopefully you will enjoy the moment of re-treading familiar footsteps and visiting an old friend!
We, as humans are hugely complex, living, working organisms of electrical and biochemical activity, busy whirring away 24/7. Is it any wonder therefore that we can get de-railed along the way sometimes? Something upsets this finely tuned balance of hormones, thoughts and emotions and we can find ourselves ‘out-of-sorts’ and having lost our path? Look at poor (and brave) Catherine Zeta Jones for example who has revealed her personal torment of late today. She has had an incredibly tough year and it has understandably knocked her sideways.
‘The Secret’ would seem to be to stay focused on the things that make you happy and be grateful for these things. It is a piece of DIY electrical hardwiring you can do for yourself and this piece of information was a revelation for me… gratitude = happiness, NOT the other way round as you might imagine. One of my husband’s favourite expressions is that comparison is a direct route to misery… and I do get this. Comparing your life / car / children / marriage / business to someone else’s will usually only end in misery, whereas being grateful for what you are good at or what elements make you happy, help to keep your thought processes on track.
So, in your business life, apply this principal. Try loving everything! Appreciate and be grateful for all the little things. And see if this changes your attitude or removes the focus from the ‘other stuff’. Take this a step further and visualise where you want to be as if it has already happened. Feel the feelings of satisfaction and joy and then, according to the book, you just watch it actually happen before your very eyes! Athletes do it, astronauts do it, captains of industry do it.
As Albert Einstein once said:
“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.”
If you don’t already own a copy of this book, you really must give it a try. I read mine regularly and each time, pick up something new! I’m going on holiday next week, guess what book I will be packing? It’s time for me to check in to my happiness again!
The Secret by Rhonda Byrne, published by Simon & Schuster UK
... love the job you’re in?
How important is it to do something you love? If you could put a number on it, how would you rate it? You know the score - 1 being the least important and 10 being the most. How many of us are living our dream-job and dream-life? I watched a Livestream event a couple of weeks ago (‘Learning Without Frontiers’) featuring Sir Ken Robinson and in amongst his inspired and legendary views he spoke passionately about this subject.. “Do something that speaks to your spirit” he proclaimed.
I am sure we can take something from this without necessarily having to sack the job off and flee to the Himalayas to chant to the mountains. What we can do is take a moment to ask ourselves what makes us happy and if we are being true to ourselves.
I have just returned from a ‘girls’ weekend away (I say ‘girls’, we are all in our 40’s, not sure when we should migrate to the title of ‘ladies’ or if we would ever qualify). Amongst us were a diverse range of vocations from a midwife, a bio-chemist, an interior designer, a college lecturer, marketer and various business type roles. It struck me that out of all of us, the midwife had been truest to her ‘calling’. She is a natural carer, a nurturing, warm, loving person who on a daily basis is in awe of the miracle of new life, even after 20+ years of doing the job. She marvelled at the new lambs on our country walks (in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales) as if she had never seen a new-born-anything before! Can you imagine a car sales person driving past a showroom on his day off and being literally blown away by the arrival of parking sensors!
I am not meaning to be derisory to car sales people, merely using this vocation to illustrate the point that not all of us are in a position to have this level of passion in what we do. I guess there has to be ‘shades’ of loving what you do. Maybe it is OK to like what you do especially if circumstances prevent you from making any radical changes (usually this boils down to money – it can be extremely disruptive to do a U-turn when in a successful and established career). But I do believe that you must do something that speaks to your spirit. This can be out of the workplace. It could be that gardening makes your soul sing or having coffee with friends, playing sport or helping at an animal sanctuary. Perhaps abandoning your 5-day-a-week business suit and becoming a weekend Hell’s Angel floats your boat and frees your mind. (We saw many of these in Hawes, a regular meeting point for fanatical motorcyclists and many I observed upon removing their helmets were indeed middle aged, middle class corporate types – free from their daily shackles and at one with their dream machine).
I also had the rare chance this weekend to read an array of wonderfully trashy magazines and read an article that stated that only a very small percentage of people surveyed are happy in their jobs and that a few minutes a day on Youtube watching comedy and silly clips helped brighten their day and made the job more enjoyable.
So, go on. Find something you love that makes you happy. Commit some time to it – 10 minutes on Youtube or selling your family heirlooms to buy a Harley! To use another Sir Ken Robinson quote “Make the most of whatever it is that floats your boat…”
And finally to sign off, I couldn’t resist this gem from another inspirational influence in my life, Steve Jobs:
“Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
Netiquette
What is and isn’t acceptable? How far do you go before you cross the line? Most forms of etiquette aren’t written down, they are simply ‘understood’ by those it concerns. To make matters more complicated, we all have slightly different parameters. But even so, surely there will always be a core set of principles that most people agree upon and this boils down to common sense.. doesn’t it?
Take golf (not that I do as it happens), the etiquette can feel quite overbearing to newcomers… greet certain people in a certain way, don’t stand there, watch your shadow – it may put other plays off (seriously). Of course some of these rules do apply to safety and enjoyment of the game but some are a test of extreme manners and protocol. At least for golfers they don’t need to use their judgement, it’s all written down in the handbook.
With every new method of communication comes a new set of self-imposed (and you hope generally understood by others) rules of etiquette. Don’t send hundreds of internal emails every day – no-one wants an inbox invasion. Is it ever acceptable to put a kiss at the end of a business email? Do you CC or BCC?
How do you achieve good ‘Twitter hygiene’? Should you ever USE CAPITALS or is this just shouting at people? I have a certain issue with bad news or negative Tweets. I know that stuff is going on, unless it’s an urgent breaking news story that your Twitter peeps may have missed, I would really rather not have a torrent of that stuff. I don’t need to know it’s another grey day in a grey city and the weekend is miles off. How about DM’s? This topic makes me feel immediately uncomfortable, like someone raising a taboo subject at a dinner party and your toes curl a little. How often should you send DM’s? Monthly? Weekly? Deep breath… Daily? Think that was the line back there. How much transactional content is OK? Surely every now and then you do want to say ‘Hey, look at my stuff. You can buy it!’ How many tweets a day is too many? Does anyone use automated messages successfully? Does it just turn people off?
I have heard the ‘dinner party’ analogy before in that you should treat social media as if you are at a dinner party, keep it conversational, interesting and be interested in others. However, my dinner parties are not an ideal barometer for me. They tend to have lots of stuff in capitals, far too many direct messages, a few controversial subjects (although not much spam) and plenty of low grade, rambling content.
Please enlighten me. Point me to the comprehensive ‘Twitter Etiquette for Dummies’. Until then, let’s get back out there in the social mediasphere. And remember to ‘Tweet others as you wish to be Tweeted.’
FORE!
Importance of Being Idle
OK, so I pinched this from Oasis. A not-half-bad tune either. However, whilst listening to this over the weekend I remembered reading that being idle once and a while actually IS important. In our busy lives of rushing about, endless obligations, sticking to a tireless routine, multi-tasking and juggling commitments, it occurred to me that we are rarely idle. Bored. Nothing to do, nothing to occupy our minds. So, I set aside some time to be.. idle! A couple of hours that’s all. No TV, no phone, no laptop, no interruptions. Nothing to do. Just to see what would happen. Just being.
I would like to report that I had flashes of creative inspiration. That I opened up my mind and inspiration and enlightenment flooded in. However, there were no epiphanies. I lay stretched out on my bed, examining the chips in the paint on the ceiling. Admiring my feet. Watching the minutes tick by. Watching the tree-tops sway out of the window.
But actually, what I did experience was a wandering mind. I drifted aimlessly in and out of thoughts about family, work, friends, holidays, my feet(!), food, pending social arrangements, calls I needed to make, birthdays coming up, stuff I need to buy, people I haven’t spoken to in a long time, snippets of conversations I had had during the week and, well all sorts of ‘stuff’! I experienced a de-cluttering, a ‘housekeeping’ of my mind. Thoughts surfaced, were considered, cogitated and then rightfully filed. I stretched and mused and shifted and reflected.
I didn’t experience the usual frustration of having wasted time or having been unproductive. Afterwards I felt great. Relaxed. Smug actually. I had chosen to do nothing and been good at it! They say children need boredom in order to test their imaginations and creativity and that so few of them ever get bored in this ‘age’ because as soon as the boredom even threatens to creep in they reach for some form of entertainment to take the boredom away without having to be creative in their thoughts and seek out ways to make their own entertainment. I am sure the same can be said of grownups. And I for one will certainly make time to be bored again. Thanks Liam and Noel. Not sure I relate to most of the lyrics in the song, but it got me thinking and.. great intro. Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da. Da dah!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jySfU10IQu4
This is quite a remarkable and true story of how Facebook, mobile communications and the internet found our 3 year old black Labrador Lola when she went missing a couple of months ago.
It seemed such a fab idea at the time. A two night weekend break to Rome as a gift to my husband for his 40th birthday. And then the logistics kicked in. Who would have the children? Who would ferry them to their various hobbies? And, oh no… what would we do with the dog? After painstakingly making all the necessary arrangements, we enlisted the services of a dog walker we had no experience of (dumb owners)! Fear not, we weren’t leaving the poor dog ‘home alone’ for the duration, this was just for the Friday morning before she was collected later in the day by the grandparents!
So, off we went. Giddy and excited about a whole weekend in the glorious city of Rome, just the two of us. No commitments. No cares or worries (ironic - if we only knew what was coming!).
To say this was an ill-fated trip is an understatement. We had attempted to ‘do’ Rome some five years previously, but due to the then striking Alitalia Airline we had been ‘stranded’ in Paris which left Rome as an ‘unconsummated’ love affair. We were also kept waiting on this occasion as we experienced delays and a missed connection. But, we did eventually make it to Rome!
Back to the dog. Late Friday afternoon, in the taxi on the way to our hotel we made the call home and received the words that were once again to deprive us of the Roman Holiday we had dreamed of! “The dog walker has lost Lola”. To any dog owners out there I apologise for the chill that this has just gone down your spine. To make matters worse, she had already been missing for 4 hours. And, to add insult to injury, the dog walker (who shall remain anonymous) had first driven her to a place she had never been to before so Lola (the dog) had no local knowledge of the area in which she had been lost.
At this point, as often happens when couples face these situations, one cracks and the other takes command. I was the one to remain calm and focused at this point. My meltdown came later! By the time we got to the hotel room (quickest, most perfunctory check-in ever) we had set out our tools to convert our bedroom in to Central Command Mission HQ. Two iphones one ipad (also a 40th present), Google Maps, Facebook and of course the mini-bar.
Our military style campaign to find the dog commenced 1700 hours CET or 1600 hours GMT! First we mobilised the land infantry. We phoned and texted everyone we knew in a 10 mile radius of where she was lost. Anyone who was able to get out and pound the pavements.. and fields.. and forests went straight out there. Fabulous. Great response and we were immediately humbled and indebted by everyone’s response.
Second, we posted it on our Facebook pages. Now, this is where it gets really interesting. Within minutes we started to build a picture of ‘sightings’. With the help of a map on the iPad we were able to plot her route. One of our friends has a 17 year old son. He picked up our plea on Facebook and re-posted it. Think of the local network of ‘Facebook-using’ friends of a boy of this age. Imagine his friends networks. It’s a Friday evening. You have just got home from college. Of course you’re on Facebook!
The responses came flooding in. She was seen on such-a-road at about 2pm or she was nearly knocked down (!!) on such-a-street at about 3pm. Then came the ‘intel’ from the ground. Our troop of foot soldiers were asking anyone they passed if they had seen a black Labrador with a red collar with white bones on it. Again, information by text started to filter through to HQ. We could clearly track her movements with approx times on our map and therefore pre-empt which way she was heading. As more of our friends returned from work on the Friday, the bigger and more viral this went. It seemed that everyone was reposting our plea on their Facebook pages. Dog-loving friends of friends of friends were getting in touch with sightings. Teenage friends of friends of friends’ sons were posting sightings!
We tactically moved the ground troops to where she had most recently been sighted and ahead of this point in every direction possible by road / fields / through gardens etc.
At approximately 2030 - Voila! Out she popped. Unfortunately, she was so spooked at this point that the sound and site of one of our friends shouting excitedly at her and running towards here made her run in the opposite direction (dumb dog) and straight in to the path of a white van on the main road. Thank you whoever you are for your lightning quick reactions and ability to swerve in time to miss her. She disappeared in to the darkness once again.
This particular night was cold and wet. Many of our friends had been out since 4pm with no food or drink and many with their children in tow. The sightings dried up. We think at this point that our poor dog was traumatised and tired and instinctively found somewhere safe and dry to curl up and sleep. We started to urge our brave foot soldiers to return home. However, the search continued with many of our friends returning later in the night to the area she was last seen to have one last look around. We had Facebook postings (all fruitless) and text messages coming through well in to the early hours.
We booked seats on the 1st flight home to Manchester on Saturday morning. Above all else we wanted to get home to the children who were broken hearted at the loss of their pet. During this sleepless night we did manage to eat and drink the entire mini-bar (my afore mentioned meltdown). Macadamia nuts, spirits and all! An achievement never before accomplished. And one which we shamefacedly confessed to the hotel staff in the morning. They were anxious that we were leaving so early and in the confusion of the pigeon English and worse still our scratchy attempt at Italian that I think they thought we had had a family bereavement and waived the charge. Charming lovely people. We must have looked dreadful.
It was whilst in the taxi at 0730 returning to the airport that we received a call from our good friend Scott. This time with decidedly better news. He had driven back to the spot where she had last been seen (playing with a white van) when she ambled out from someone’s garden to come and say hello to Scott’s dog, Pasha. Grab. Click on a lead. Safe.
We erupted in the back of the taxi. We laughed. We cried. We hugged each other. Who said the English are suppressed and lacking in emotion and passion? That Italian taxi driver must surely have a different opinion of the stiff-upper-lip English stereotype. And of course he probably thought we were complete weirdo’s too.
So. What did we do next? Well, of course we texted, we posted and we telephoned. Instantly broadcasting the good news. The search was off. Put your wellies away. Go back to bed. Re-post. Put it on your wall. We still came home. Rome remains unconquered.
When speaking to friends in the days that followed our return. These are some comments we picked up:
When quizzing passers by if they had seen a dog fitting Lola’s description – some had actually responded ‘is it the same one that’s lost on Facebook?’
My father in law (boldly) approached a gang of ‘hoodies’ who ordinarily he would cross the street to avoid. They said that they were already out looking for her because they had seen a post on Facebook that she had been sighted on their road ‘Well I love dogs, me. I had one when I was little. And we had nothing else to do, like. So we thought we’d have a look’. They had even taken a note of our mobile number.
One friend nipped in to a couple of local pubs to ask around and the locals already knew.. you guessed it. Their teenage children had told them or they had dogs themselves and someone had posted it on their Wall.
Interestingly I had also tweeted the news about our dog and had no response whatsoever. This has further illustrated to me that my usage of Twitter and Facebook are very different. Facebook is mainly local and personal. Despite the ability to connect with friends all over the world. Twitter is certainly more national and to a degree international, but mainly ‘regional’ ie north west. But this is very different to communicating in a 10 mile radius of where we live. Plus I really only use it for professional purposes.
As well as being a big deal for us in terms of having a pretty awful experience in life, it has also been a fascinating social media exercise. Without knowing it we launched a targeted social media campaign aimed at teenagers and dog lovers. They did the work for us. We lit the touch paper and off it went, lighting up the homes and streets of a small area on the outskirts of Bury in Lancashire. And although super hero Scott was the one to scoop the prize, our friends, family and acquaintances all linked by the web and the mobile phone network made it happen and for that we are truly grateful. Without the human element, the technological side couldn’t have happened, so maybe Facebook didn’t actually find my dog – but would we have found her without it?