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Enjoying the kingdom of heaven on earth

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Qui cantat, bis orat
Saint Augustine

Days after two Sky News sports commentators are sacked from their jobs for sexism, I find myself wondering, as the Barbican’s staff bring out flowers for Susan Gritton and Sarah Connolly, if our culture will ever change to include equality in this tiny detail between male and female soloists.  This is the least of my thoughts, however, as I savour the experience of singing Elgar’s The Kingdom at the Barbican under the baton of Sir Mark Elder.

The path that has brought me to this moment is a long one – much longer, of course, than the flurry of rehearsals that has prepared us for this concert.  In our opening rehearsal, for example, I find myself thinking of my first experience of singing The Kingdom under the baton of Richard Hickox, with whom we recorded this work in the late ’90s.  The memory stimulates the sadness that comes with the premature loss of a man who was so passionate about his work, a sense of loss which is in itself a celebration of this great musician and champion of British music.

I think, too, of my father, for whom both music and the teachings of the Bible were a healing and spiritual balm.  I don’t know if he ever sung this piece, which is not frequently performed.  I do, though, imagine that he would have loved it, both for its grand choral sweep and for the poetry of its Biblical concerns.  Certainly, as our rehearsals proceed, I find myself thinking of the piece as an evocation of heaven on earth.  If it is not here yet it is at least possible.

As the rehearsals proceed Joseph Cullen, our Music Director, seems content – one might almost say uncharacteristically content – with our progress.  Come the concert I find myself sitting next to a colleague who has noted in her score the moment when Joseph told us we were perfectly balanced and in tune.  Joseph has been diligent in passing on direction from Sir Mark Elder ahead of our first rehearsal with him, known as the piano rehearsal.  I have not sung with Sir Mark before and I enjoy both his attention to detail and his lightness of touch (though even in the performance his instruction to pronounce the word knowledge with an “i” – as in “knowlidge” – makes me think of London’s black cab drivers).  Yes, we are working to achieve high standards and still this does not need to be – is not – dour, let alone a battle ground.

The arrival of the soloists and the London Symphony Orchestra at our tutti rehearsals is itself like the arrival of heaven on earth.  Susan Gritton stands out for her delicate and masterful singing which is showcased in Elgar’s exquisite aria, The Sun Goeth Down.  With such a beautiful voice, why is she not better known?  Sarah Connolly and Iain Paterson also sing masterfully and Stuart Skelton, struggling with a chest infection and saving what he has for the concert itself, also sings with great beauty even whilst clearly struggling.

As much as there is an audience on the day, I am here because I love to sing and I do.  Elgar himself remarked that his choral writing was much improved by the time he wrote The Kingdom and it is indeed wonderful, its dramatic intensity reflected in its dynamic range and in the various moods and colours he conjures.  If only we were sitting next to the tenors I would gladly join them in singing the passages that are written for men’s voices but we’re not so, after indulging myself in the rehearsals, I let the men do their job on the day.

I am often struck by the disproportionate response of the audience to the chorus and Sunday is no exception.  As Joseph brings us to our feet the applause increases and is reinforced by cheers.  I am glad of this and at the same time I celebrate the orchestra’s vivid and vigourous performance and think of the stamina and commitment needed not only to reach this standard of musicianship but also to maintain it.

If the response of the audience is anything to go by, the reviews of this concert will be highly supportive.  For my part I am reminded, once again, of the great privilege (or should that be “privilige”?) of singing, as an amateur, alongside some of the world’s finest musicians.

This is indeed heaven on earth.

    

Starting the HR year as we mean to go on

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The Human Resources UK group on LinkedIn, which serves a wide variety of professionals with an interest in Human Resources, today launches “Discuss HR”, a regular blog to which I have agreed to contribute.

In response to Ed’s request I agreed to offer the first posting – very slightly daunting!  With the aim of stimulating discussion I offered the posting below, which is published today:

January, 2011. Traditionally, the New Year is a time of new beginnings. At the same time, New Year’s resolutions have long since fallen into disrepute – even as we make our resolutions we often know we don’t intend to keep them. This is the land of “should” and “ought tos”.

As I reflect on the year ahead, I wonder how much HR suffers from the same ebb and flow of new beginnings, rich with promise, that fizzle out with a quiet ignominy: the change project that starts with a big fanfare and support from the Board and which, by the time it fails to deliver, has somehow become the sole responsibility of HR; the leadership development programme that holds such hope yet never bears the fruits of clarity about the leadership aspirations of the organisation – let alone the development of a cadre of leaders who are skilled in the organisation’s chosen approach. I’ve yet to meet an HR director who complains that s/he has too many skilled leaders.

Is it possible that the HR profession is – at times – its own worst enemy? Sometimes I am shocked by what HR professionals will buy and from whom: products and services that are not designed to deliver the outcomes required by the business or, when they are, from people who have little skill and experience in delivering. Fundamental tenets of leadership are touched on in courses with no sense that there will be any follow through. Competency models are designed by people who have not conducted any research into what makes the difference between effective and outstanding performance in a given role or organisation. And how many HR professionals, when they deserve due credit, expect the accolades to come walking down the corridor to find them in their office – and then wonder why they never arrive?

So, at the start of 2011, I wonder what changes in the way we do “HR” would make the biggest and most positive difference, both in the impact HR has on the business and in the reputation of the HR profession in the organisations we serve. Reflecting on my own experience – as a trainer, consultant and coach – I have my own favourite. I wonder what would be different in our work-places if our work were rooted in a deep understanding and full acceptance of what is – what some call a phenomenological approach. This implies understanding the implications of widely available and deep research and committing to apply this understanding when we embark on new initiatives.

What might we do differently with a full commitment to such an approach? Here are just three ideas – my starter for ten:

1. On the road to making changes we would give up a “pass or fail” approach and measure success by the way we negotiate setbacks and adapt our approach to secure progress towards key goals. Recognising that there’s no failure, only feedback, any signs that a project isn’t working would be taken as a sign that adjustment is needed to the way we move towards our goals;

2. Before embarking on new initiatives we would get clear and strong conceptual agreement for projects at the most senior levels and these would include a process of exploring the implications for senior leaders of sponsoring initiatives – what this would require of them – and reaching clear agreements ahead of time;

3. And because we are human and the leaders we serve are human I would want to see us make the mother of all our investments in learning how to hold what I call “real conversations”. This would require an examination of the beliefs that underpin our chosen approach to communication and a commitment to replace a unilateral (“domination”) approach with an approach which is rooted in acceptance and aspires to mutual learning. This third suggestion is my favourite of all and a big topic in its own right. If you want to learn more, look out for my next posting on the HRUK blog.

I wonder, what favourite changes would you propose for 2011 in the way we do HR?

Breathing out before I breathe in

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Monday evening, 3rd January 2011.  Today is a Bank Holiday in the United Kingdom since New Year’s Day fell on a Saturday.  As I write the bulk of the UK’s working population is preparing for the year’s first day back at work.

I have been preparing, too.  I have a session with a coaching client on the afternoon of my first day back which includes looking at feedback from her colleagues and I have taken time to review the feedback.  I have also been clearing out some of the e-mails which have landed during the holiday.

My preparations have been gentle and slow as I just about make it into first gear.  I am slowly recovering from a cold which I put down to my outbound flight to Copenhagen on Boxing Day (all those shared germs).  Even as I write I also recognise that I was susceptible at this time – the germs came and I said “yes, please come in”, as if my body knew to invite me to rest for a few days and to let everything wait.

As I have done many times before I think of the vocal coach I worked with, alongside my colleagues in the London Symphony Chorus.  Although I struggle to remember her name right now I do remember a key learning I took from our work together and whose application goes way beyond the art and craft of singing:  sometimes you have to breathe out before you breathe in.

Starting the year as you mean to go on

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Have you ever noticed that most people’s new year’s resolutions are about what they plan to do?  (And let’s not get too picky about the fact that many of us then – somehow – fail to go on to do those things).  This year, I invite you to start the year by reflecting on the how of your life: who or how are you going to be?

The poem below, written by Dawna Markova following her father’s death and from which she takes the title of her book says something of her intentions in the how department:

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

Dawna Markova

Also, by Henry David Thoreau, this quote, in which I love the idea of sucking the marrow from the bones of life:

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, to suck the marrow from the bones of life; to put to rout all that was not life, and not to come to the end of life, and discover that I had not lived.
 
Happy new year!

Sending you greetings at Christmas

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Dear Reader

Christmas is approaching rapidly with its combination of the religious and the pagan, the historical and the mythical, the festive and the down-right practical (oh, those preparations!). We celebrate the birth of the Christ-child along with the abundance of our winter stores. In Father Christmas we celebrate both the historical figure of Saint Nicholas and the myth that Santa Claus spends the night before Christmas visiting gifts upon all the children of the world. And in the Christmas narrative we celebrate the birth of a child whose story has also assumed the quality of myth.

With Christmas comes the end of one year and the beginning of another. This is a time to look back on the year just gone and to look forward to the year that lies ahead. In case you would like help in shaping your reflections and your plans for the future, look out for the questions I shall be publishing this week on my blog.

In my own life and work I look back on the intention I set at the beginning of 2011 to bring my communication and marketing into the twenty-first century. I celebrate the progress I have made to this end. This has included beginning to shape and practice an approach to asking for referrals which enriches everyone involved. It has included getting clear about what differentiates my approach to coaching from that of my peers. It has included taking my first baby steps towards “shouting it from the rooftops” – most recently, updating my profile on LinkedIn to highlight my key areas of interest.

I also look forward to the steps that have yet to be taken. These include moving my regular newsletter to a platform which can support a growing number of readers. They include updating my website to showcase a business which is radically different from the one I first envisaged when I set up Learning for Life (Consulting) in 2002. They include introducing a growing range of products and services to meet the needs of my core clients.

Most of all, though, in this present moment, I am taking a moment to experience the gratitude for the many contributions I have received this year and which support me in doing work I love. I cannot possibly do justice here to the breadth and depth of this support – perhaps it’s enough, for now, to express my gratitude for the opportunity to work as a coach to leaders, unleashing innate leadership potential through powerful, compassionate and authentic relationships.

So, in signing off, I send you every good wish for joy at Christmas and many blessings in the New Year.

Dorothy

PS If you’re feeling sad about the commercialism of Christmas, take a look at the way these singers took the spirit of Christmas with them to their local shopping Centre.  Just follow this link.

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it by living someone else’s life

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Your time is limited, so don’t waste it by living someone else’s life
Steve Jobs
CEO, Apple

In London, students have been protesting at the proposal to raise the fees for attending university.  As I write, MPs are facing a controversial vote in Parliament which will have been decided by the time this post is published.  In the day’s news and commentary journalists have been highlighting just how many MPs on both sides of the house, in the run-up to the Parliamentary debate, have been undecided which way to vote.
As a country, our need to balance our books is a current driver for this proposal and yet, it seems to me, there are much larger issues at stake.  They are not all negative, so that – even whilst remembering that my own university education was entirely paid for by the state – I am undecided which way to lean.  I am aware, for example, that many of our country’s greatest entrepreneurs did not complete a university education and I wonder if, by inviting students to consider what they want from university and to calculate whether or not they want to make the investment needed to achieve this (financial or other) return-on-investment, we encourage the very entrepreneurialism which our politicians so often say is lacking (even whilst encouraging its surpression by the messages they give about and through education – a whole topic of its own).
It’s not that I am decided on this issue – I am open to look at it from all sides and I am sure that it would take more looking at than I am likely to do to reach an informed and considered conclusion.  I’d like to think that this is what the politicians are doing on my behalf, even whilst recognising the likelihood that more immediate concerns will stand in the way of a much larger picture.
I am, though, sure that – with or without education – we are born with resources which are apt to manifest themselves.  Insofar as education adds value, it does so by supporting us in becoming the person we are meant to become – like the acorn becoming the oak – rather than by seeking to mould us into something we are not.  Everything that I feel most passionate about – education, training, coaching, leadership – has this truth at its heart.
So it was striking to me as I found myself watching, once again, one of the wonderful short talks on http://www.ted.com/, to hear Steve Jobs talk to students graduating from Stanford University about how to live before you die.  Jobs spoke about his own experience of dropping out of university only to spend a further eighteen months dropping in on those lectures that most appealed to him whilst kipping on the floors of his friends and returning Coke bottles in order to get the 5 cent return which would pay for his food.  He talked about how his learning served him in setting up what became Apple.  He talked about being sacked from Apple and, by a quirk of fate, setting up a company that later became part of Apple so that he, one-time CEO of Apple became CEO again.  Jobs could not foresee the outcomes that would come from following his instincts in this somewhat unconventional way and still, they came, and they came from doing what he most enjoyed.
And in the midst of his fascinating talk came the most arresting of his comments which I offer once more for the sheer joy of his insight when he says:  Your time is limited, so don’t waste it by living someone else’s life.
If you were living the life that you – and only you – were born to live, what life would that be?

One step on the long walk to freedom from the “amygdala hijack”

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Have you noticed how, at times, an experience you are having triggers strong emotions in you – emotions that come with such speed and intensity that it seems as if they control you rather than you them?  At the time, you are likely to be filled with thoughts about yourself or the other person – critical thoughts, laden with generalisations (“why does she always have to do x, y or z…?”), judgements (“what a ****!”) and (oh, yes!) expletives.  Favourite places for this experience are in the family, behind the wheel of a car or when we are being served and are unhappy with the service available.  And yes, there may also be times when we are triggered in this way at work.

After the event we may continue to tell the story that we told ourselves at the time.  This has the benefit of leaving our dignity intact in our own eyes:  we were justified after all, given that… The downsides of maintaining our story are several.  So thin is the veneer that protects us from a deeper truth that we may start to exaggerate the truth in order to convince ourselves that we were in the right, increasing the likelihood of an ongoing breakdown in communication and missing the opportunity for some important learning.  What’s more, over the course of a lifetime, our stories create our life – so it’s worth checking out that the life you create by the thoughts you have in these moments is the life you want to create.

And what if it’s not?  It’s one thing to recognise the moments in which you are triggered and another to know what to do that will change your response.  In truth, so common is the experience of what scientists call the “amygdala hijack” that many approaches have sought to address it in ways which empower their followers to be free from its powerfully destructive effects.  Marshall Rosenberg, for example, through his work (including his book Nonviolent Communication:  A Language for Life) offers ways to transform the thinking behind the emotion and so does Katie Byron, whose book Loving What Is:  Four Questions That Can Change Your Life is widely available.  Both have dedicated their lives to pursuing and sharing ways that have worked for them in this area and their websites (www.cnvc.org for Marshall Rosenberg and www.thework.com for Katie Byron) are a rich resource for anyone who wants to explore ways to be free from the effects on their lives of being triggered in this way.

It’s easy – and perhaps admirable – when you’re seeking to move beyond the approaches you take when you are triggered to look for alternative strategies for responding in a given situation.  It’s also largely ineffective until you can penetrate the surface of your emotion to understand its cause and transform it.  Rosenberg and Byron both point to the importance of transforming the thinking that stimulates the emotion.  Yes, you heard it:  the thinking that stimulates the emotion.  For it’s not the situation itself but rather the way we think about the situation which stimulates the pain and anger we feel in a given moment.

In case you want to take steps on the road to understanding your own triggers I offer some questions and the invitation to be curious:

  • What are the situations or people in which your emotions are most easily triggered?  You might like to think of examples and to examine specific examples using the questions below;
  • What was it about each situation which stimulated your emotions?  Be as specific as you can as you respond to this question;
  • What were your thoughts about this situation?  What assumptions, beliefs and presuppositions were in your mind (of which you may or may not have been aware)?
  • What needs did you have that were yearning to be met in this situation?  I write more about needs in my next posting, recognising that many of us find it hard to connect with our needs in a given moment or after the event;
  • Which part of you was triggered in each situation?  This question recognises that our triggers often relate to specific (often younger) parts of ourselves whose needs were not met. 

As I write, I recognise that this posting is one step – and only one step – on the long walk to freedom from the amygdala hijack.  As well as making a note to write about needs in my next posting, I also make a note to write more about next steps:  once you have understood your thoughts, what can you do to transform them?

PS  Just to let you know, as a member of Amazon Associates UK, I shall receive a referral fee for any books you buy using the links in this posting.

  

Receiving the waves of gratitude

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Do you have people in your life with whom you share membership of the Mutual Admiration Club? These are people you hold in high regard and who hold you in their hearts in the same way. Dorota Godby is one of these. Through our participation in several learning events we have had the opportunity to support and be supported by each other and in this way to witness and benefit from each other’s skills.

In June I observed how Dorota was able to be present to the needs and feelings of others at Vicky Pierce’s Barn – how she took time with people to explore with them what feelings were arising in the moment and supported them in connecting with their underlying needs. This was empathy as a high art and I watched with admiration as well as experiencing the sense of deep peace that can come when I am in a space of such intimacy, trust and presence.

I also benefitted from Dorota’s support myself as I explored some of my own feelings about being single. Dorota showed the same sensitivity, supporting me as I connected with a yearning for the level of intimacy that is possible in a committed relationship. Later, she brought a playfulness to our conversation about the man I would love to meet. I haven’t met him yet though I’d love to.

I was thrilled when Dorota asked me for some support in August, when we were both at NVC (that’s Nonviolent Communication) Summer Camp together. We took some time on the last day of camp to do some work which was deeply personal to Dorota. I felt the same sense of privilege that I always feel when I am both coach and witness to people in support of their progress towards lives that are more authentic, easy and fulfilling. It was a further blessing to receive Dorota’s update to me which I share (with her permission) below:

Now I’m talking to you, I want also to share my joy and gratitude following the mediation space you held for me on the last day of the NVC camp. I hope that you’ve been receiving the waves of gratitude I’ve been sending your way non-verbally but I’ll articulate it here too.

I’ve seen such changes in and around me as a result of our work. It’s been integrating into my normality and making it a richer, sweeter and more satisfying experience compared to previous exhaustion and harshness. The most recent experience of it was on a work project in Oxford last week. In the 4 days of space clearing and emotional support that went with it, I was able to navigate the process with spaciousness and compassion and not a bunch of well meaning but oppressing “shoulds”. It was a big difference for me: instead of the lever being stuck on “maximum performance maximum of time”, it went with what was needed, how much and when and both me and my client were delighted with the process.

Dorota Godby
Relationship communication coach

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old

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They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

Laurence Binyon
From his poem, “The Fallen”
World War I ended officially at 11am on 11th November 1918.  Remembrance Day is the offical commemoration across the countries of the Commonwealth of the sacrifices of both members of the armed forces and civilians in times of war.  The extract from Binyon’s poem, which has become known as the Ode to Remembrance, evokes especially thoughts of those who died.
As one who was born long after the end of World War I and indeed after World War II it was Sebastian Faulk’s book Birdsong that first brought World War I vividly to life, some years ago.  Later, a visit to Ypres brought to mind the forgotten members of the Commonwealth who fought under the British flag.
Now, though, I wonder who we remember on this day, thinking of the many soldiers who give arms and legs but not their lives and those who give, simply, their mental health as a result of the horrors they witness on behalf of their country and in foreign lands across the world.
It seems to me that as we think of and honour the dead, we are at risk of overlooking the impact of war on those who are still alive. 

A perfect day

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Monday.  Today I am coaching on the phone.  I am tired after a late night – attending the Teaching Awards’ annual national awards ceremony followed by dinner.  I am grateful for the rapport I have with my clients and for the trust that comes with it:  today I may need to call on that rapport as my desire to contribute balances with my body’s yearning for sleep.  I imagine that it doesn’t do to yawn when rapport and trust are absent.

In truth, the activity of coaching is one I love so that my energies quickly rise to meet the occasion.  I enjoy each call and the added value that comes for the client from working in coaching partnership.  (As I write, I recognise how impersonal the word “client” seems to me right now.  These are real people who place their trust in the process of coaching and in me as their coach as we work together to progress the issues and agendas they are grappling with.  Coaching is anything but impersonal.)

Judy, my sister-in-law is staying, too, and has already asked me if I have time for lunch.  I coach until twelve before walking up to Blackheath where I meet Judy and her son – my nephew – Edward at the Handmade Foods Cafe.  We eat outside in the mild November weather, eating our vegetarian curry which is absolutely divine.

Judy asks me if I’d like to walk down to Greenwich and – since I don’t have any calls until the late afternoon – I am free to say yes.  We walk across the Heath and through Greenwich Park.  It strikes me – as it has done already this year – that the colours of Autumn are particularly intense.  Canary Wharf is beautiful in the low Autumn sunshine.  It really is a beautiful day.

We wander around Greenwich taking in a few shops and stopping at Waterstones (there has to be a bookshop involved) before having tea and (in Edward’s case) beer at the Old Brewery.  I am amused – or perhaps bemused – when I find that our common territory (semantics) combines with my own special interests (emotional intelligence and nonviolent communication) as we discuss the finer differences between embarrassment, shame and guilt.  Is it possible to feel these emotions and still have no regrets?

We walk back through Greenwich Park and I leave Judy and Edward to visit the Royal Observatory as I continue home.  I have time to meditate before they return as well as to catch up with some e-mails so that I can start the day tomorrow with a conscience and an in-tray that are both clear.  I also have time to say goodbye to Judy before she leaves to go back home and I pick up the phone for my next call.

Sometimes it helps to balance forward planning with flexibility in the moment if you are to live in the flow of life and to experience the perfect day.