Tag Archives: celebrating

Meet the workers

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In recent days, I have been writing about progress in my kitchen.  Today, I thought it’s time to introduce the workers – Gary and Wills.


Gary – camera shy – is nonetheless in the house

Gary has proven rather camera-shy, so I offer this photo of his coat and scarf, sitting in the dining room.  I first met Gary in the late 80s when I was furnishing my first home and he had a furniture shop in Blackheath.  Stripped pine was all the rage – the cupboard in the photo is one I bought from Gary.  Later, he closed his shop and started to offer his skills in the home.  Painter and decorator is definitely too narrow a label.  Interior designer is a label Gary shuns.  Nonetheless, he combines a talent for design with a vast array of practical skills.

Amongst the moments I have most enjoyed in working with Gary are those moments where we disagree.  I think “you can’t possibly strip back a wall to the bare bricks” but Gary says “let’s try it and see – we can always plaster over it if you don’t like it”.  We do, and the effect is wonderful.  Gary says, “You can’t possibly paint a bathroom purple” and here, too, we try it and see – my deep purple bathroom has often been admired in recent years.  I recognise that my creative self is well and truly indulged in the process of working together and balanced with Gary’s creativity, wealth of experience and practical skills.

Wills – Gary’s co-worker and right hand man

Wills is less camera-shy.  He and Gary are working together in my kitchen as they have done in the past.  Wills is hard-working, diligent and easy to get along with.  Last week I enjoyed watching Wills open up the fire-place and I appreciate the care he has taken to minimise the passage of dust into the rest of the house.  He and Gary seem to me like brothers – Gary, especially knows how to “wind up” his work companion and Wills seems easily to take the bate.  I enjoy having them in the house.

In the spirit of celebrating, I take a moment to reflect on how deeply in I trust Gary and how much I appreciate his contribution in my life.  It’s not just that I enjoy the work he does for me – which alone would be enough.  He has been a key-holder of my home for the last twenty years, as he has of many other clients.  His work contributes to my need for beauty and creativity.  I enjoy his sense of fun and play.  I love having practical support.

If only it were not so early in the morning, I might want to raise a glass to Gary and Wills.

Getting started in the kitchen

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There is a fine layer of dust throughout the house today.  Work on the kitchen has started.  Gary and Wills have taken great care to minimise the passage of dust from the kitchen to the rest of the house, creating a cover for the door which Heath Robinson would surely admire.  Even so, we know from experience that dust will travel.

One of the aims yesterday (Day 1) was to reveal the chimney breast.  It may be possible to make a feature of the bare brick work.

The initial work reveals a bit of a mixed picture:  the brickwork is not as pretty as it can sometimes be.  By the time I get to see it, Gary and Wills have already come up with a plan B – suggestions about how to display some of the brick work whilst repairing and covering some that really isn’t attractive.

By the end of the day, the unused pipe has been removed and some of the brick work has been stripped back on the adjacent wall with the aim of sealing it and varnishing it so that it can stay bare.  By the time they leave the house, Gary and Wills have popped the cooker back in place, cleaned the surface and uncovered the sink and surrounding area so that I have the use of the kitchen after they’ve gone.

Whilst they have been working, I have been reflecting on the years I have spent in the house.  During this time I have taken decisions to set up my own business, to study neurolinguistic programming (NLP) and nonviolent communication (NVC), to train as a coach… all decisions that I didn’t foresee when I moved in in January, 2000.  I didn’t anticipate the decisions, I didn’t anticipate the deep learning that would come with the decisions.  I have experienced the almost paradoxical combination of living at the edge of my comfort zone and beyond and becoming increasingly connected and comfortable with myself.

I couldn’t have done this without support.  Some of it has been professional – working with a number of wonderful coaches over the last ten years, taking courses, as well as the support of Hoss, my wonderful accountant at Brooks Carling.  So much of it has come from friends and colleagues, including some I have met along the way.

My family, too, have been an enduring presence.  If ever there’s an advanced school of learning, it is in the family.  Sometimes my experiences of family have stimulated me to explore new ways of doing things.  Sometimes I have applied new learnings in the context of my family – whether they like it or not.  Often, they have been on tenterhooks – how would I fare as the owner and director of my own business…?

As I write, I take a moment to sit with the sense of gratitude I feel for so much support in my life.  I am reaching for words to describe what it means to me and find them inadequate in this moment.

Kitchen adventures

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It’s functional, but it’s not pretty.

I’ve been without an internet connection for five whole days.  Nightmare!  I was almost thirty years old before I made any significant use of a computer.  Now, I use it every working day.  I have been doing my best to keep up in recent days using the tiny screen and keyboard of my Blackberry.

I’ve been itching to post.  I am about to embark on a long overdue adventure:  replacing my old kitchen.  I can’t begin to tell you how excited I feel!  When I say old, I really mean old…  When I moved into my home in January, 2000, the kitchen was already in need of an update.  My friend Alan drew the the picture below when he visited.

Even in 2000, my friends knew it had to go…

The trouble is, the rest of the house was also in need of an update.  Oh!  And in 2002 I took a decision I had not foreseen earlier – to leave full time employment and set up my own business.  Setting up Learning for Life (Consulting) took time, energy – including emotional energy – and all sorts of resources.  And in the meantime, believe it or not, I got used to the kitchen.

In recent weeks, planning for this transformation, I have been acutely aware of how grateful I feel to so many people in my life.  So many people have supported me on the great adventure of the last ten years.  I thought I’d share this kitchen adventure with you along with my thanks.  I’ll be sharing photos, ups and downs, and thank yous over the coming days.

Please share your comments.  I value your support.

Toothy wisdom

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When my mother was about 60 years old, her dentist advised her to stop cracking nuts open with her teeth.  She had not, until that time, had any fillings.

I was reminded of this this week when, in the midst of a week that was already far too busy, I fell victim to a dental emergency.  Was it the crunchy carrot stick?  I’m not sure, but in the midst of my lunch, something crunched and it wasn’t what was intended – a significant chunk of enamel fell away from the side of a very old filling.  Too much information, I know.

Have you ever noticed how, when something changes in your mouth – you chip a tooth or have a new filling – you have an urge to feel it with your tongue?  The cavity left by my lunchtime crunching felt like an enormous seaside cave to me.  It still does – I shall be hot footing it to the dentist this morning.

I find myself wondering:  what other changes in my life have seemed so huge at the time?  Changes that have gone on to become part of my life’s tapestry…  I think of some of the experiences that were so unwelcome at the time and seem so different now.  I think of the way those experience have shaped me and enriched my life.  And I feel grateful.

Right now, ahead of time, I’m feeling grateful for Dr. Lydia Pink at the Blackheath Village Dental Practice.

Mahler’s Third Symphony: all in a day’s work for the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra

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Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra at Royal Festival Hall for their London residency
Sometimes, the experience of going to see a film that has been highly praised by the critics leaves you feeling curiously disappointed – hungry even, yearning for something more.  I ponder this as Sir Simon Rattle steps onto the podium to conduct Mahler’s Third Symphony at London’s Royal Festival Hall. Rattle will be conducting the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra which has the reputation of being the very best orchestra in the world.  How much better, I wonder, can the world’s “best” orchestra be than so many other world class orchestras with whom I have had the privilege to sing as a member of the London Symphony Chorus?
For I am here as a member of the London Symphony Chorus, and as a result I have a seat at a concert which has been sold out for who knows how long.  In the midst of Mahler’s Third Symphony there is a brief and intensely beautiful alto solo which is, in turn, accompanied by ladies and children’s chorus.  With efficiency and compassion Rattle rehearsed the choir (the BBC Singers, ladies of the London Symphony Chorus and the boys choir of Eltham College) at the beginning of the morning’s tutti rehearsal and sent us on our way so that I do not know how the orchestra will perform across the grand sweep of this epic piece.
The concert begins with an hors d’oeuvre of two short pieces sung with great confidence by ladies of the BBC Singers before the concert’s “main course” begins.  I notice I am searching the filing cabinet of my Mahler 3 experiences in order to make comparisons and quickly decide to let go of experiencing this work through the filter of my intellect in order to surrender to my experience of this performance.  I am not disappointed.
Listening to the wide sweep of the symphony’s lengthy first movement, I am struck by something that goes beyond fine playing, even whilst wondering how many hours of study, practice, playing and performance are reflected in the exquisite playing of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.  It seems to me that there is an intensity in the performance which comes from Rattle’s attention to the music’s every nuance as well as from the orchestra’s total commitment to their performance.
Seated as I am next to the boys of the Eltham Choir as they sniff, cough, fart and fidget I am aware of just how long a sit it is for them and still, I am barely distracted from the music.  And when our time comes to sing I am aware of how Rattle’s rehearsal has prepared us all – combining a lightness of touch with both confidence and precision for our brief performance.
Some time before the performance ends I find that I am experiencing something akin to the deep stillness I sometimes experience when I meditate – when I am present to everything that is around me even whilst experiencing a deep stillness within.  This has been an experience I cannot begin to render in words, one that I do not wish to discuss when, eventually, I leave the concert platform.
There is a moment of stillness as the piece ends which is quickly punctured when a member of the audience calls out “bravi!”  The audience is ecstatic, with fulsome applause as more and more people rise to their feet.  One of the boys of the Eltham Choir savours this word – “Bravi!  Bravi!” – like a new sweet he is tasting for the very first time.
I notice how Rattle not only acknowledges the performers, including individual members of the orchestra but thanks them, striding through their ranks to speak personally with those who have played some of the solos.
It’s hard to believe that, for these guys, this is all in a day’s work.  For me, it was far from an every day experience. 

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.

    

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.

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.