Tag Archives: celebrating

With grateful thanks to the readers of UKHRD

All articles,

Six years ago, with bated breath, I left my job with the Hay Group to set up my own business. The deep personal and professional journey on which I was about to embark was as yet unknown to me. The richness of joy and experience that lay ahead were beyond my imagining at that time. I felt fear, excitement. Mostly, I felt fear.

My colleague from way back when, Norman, let me know of a community of professionals with an interest in questions of learning and development, who meet virtually through a daily digest of postings and responses. Back then it was called UKHRD. Since then it has become the TJ (Training Journal) Online Discussion Forum. From the beginning, I found a community of people willing to support each other. From the beginning, I discovered my own joy in participating in the forum. I loved to share and I loved the variety of feedbacks that came my way.

Last Christmas I was blown away to receive a card from Carrie, one of the readers of the Digest, who let me know just how much she enjoyed my postings. Suddenly I became aware of my own joy in writing in a new way. What a paradox! So obvious was it to me that I enjoy writing that it was sitting outside my conscious awareness. I started to ask myself, what do I want to do with this gift that I enjoy so much?

Later, it seemed natural to engage members of the Forum in this question. I spoke with Angie, another member of the Forum, about her own experiences of blogging. Our conversation was more than enough to inspire me to begin this blog even whilst being as yet uncertain about the purposes it would serve and unaware of what it might lead to.

Suddenly, this evening, as I plan a posting which has yet to be written, I think of my colleagues on the Forum with a deep sense of gratitude. From those who have read my postings in silence to those who have given feedback, from those who have welcome my postings to those who have found them harsh or unfair, from those who have sought out my professional support as a result of what they read to those who have offered support in a wide variety of areas. And this evening, I especially think of those whose actions inspired me to begin this as-yet-still-young weblog.

Celebrating the postings that have yet to be written

About Dorothy, Alternative approaches, ,

Perhaps – only perhaps – it is because I am still new to blogging that I have yet to experience a “dry season” in my posting, a time when the inspiration to write does not want to come.

Today, I walk to Blackheath where I stop for a drink before picking up my dry cleaning. The sun is shining – as it seems to have done only rarely this summer – and I sit outside in the late summer sunshine. My mind is full of the postings that have yet to be written – about midlife and what it means to have reached “half time”, about – ahead of our forthcoming concerts – the story of the Hebrew slaves that underpins Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast, about the session of EFT I had yesterday with my friend Alex, about School Coach, about…, about…, about… It seems that there is no shortage of “abouts”.

I take a moment, ahead of writing about School Coach, to notice all the postings that are forming in my mind, all the postings that I have yet to write.

I celebrate them all.

Welcoming Mr. Fox

About Dorothy

During my rural childhood, it was rare to see a fox. More often than not, the presence of a fox was heralded by the loss of a chicken, leaving blood and feathers in the farmyard, or by the sudden cackling of the hens at night. There was no denying the beauty of the fox when we saw one and still they were not the most welcome of neighbours.

In London, foxes are easy to spot. The commuter’s glance will often fall on foxes playing on the banks on either side of the railway tracks. The foxes wander with confidence along London’s back streets at twilight. In the breeding season their sometimes almost human screams can be heard at night. And all the while, they are comfortable amidst their human neighbours, watching from only a short distance.

When I first moved into my current home the springtime often brought a nursing mother and her young into my garden. This changed when the unruly plot of land behind the house became first a building site and then a block of flats surrounded by a garden. I was sad to lose the presence of my urban country friends. This summer, however, has seen the arrival of a new visitor to my garden, a young male fox. Whilst many urban foxes have poor skin and hair Mr. Fox is muscular and sleek.

This evening I complete my last call of the day with my coach and, after a walk, set about preparing supper. Mr. Fox enters my garden as I am preparing vegetables at the sink, nonchalantly exploring my garden and leaving his mark. He stands watching me for a few moments before climbing onto the low wall and then jumping onto the high fence and into my neighbour’s garden. I watch him, too, enjoying his presence in my garden and his masculine beauty.

In this way, my evening begins.

Ramadan kareem

Coaching, Developing as a leader, , ,

I am quiet this evening, thoughtful. There have been pennies dropping for me throughout the day.

The time of meeting a potential coaching client, whether an individual or an organisation, is a blessed time for me, knowing as I do how much difference coaching can make both to individuals and to the organisations they work in.

As the day proceeds I get to meet some of the people I may – or may not – work with in coaching partnership. It is a time of exploration. A time of getting to know each other. A time of decision. For my part, it’s important to have some sense, ahead of time, that the investment my client proposes to make in my contribution will indeed add value. I am ready to walk away if my sense is that it will not. It is also an important time for my clients – for the people I meet and for the organisation for which they work. I want to support the organisation and its most senior leaders in moving forward. Still, I do not want for any member of the team that he (or she) feel any sense of obligation to “sign up”.

Sitting waiting for my first appointment, something I knew ahead of time lands with a more visceral force: that if I agree to work with this organisation, I may be signing up to regular visits to the UAE and for some time. The pennies continue to drop throughout the day as I make meaning of my experiences: that I am already supportive of the organisation’s aspirations for change, that I am already committed to the individual members of the senior leadership team, that to engage with this diverse group of leaders is to reach out beyond questions of culture and ethnicity and to engage with each and every member of the team, that to contribute in this way has meaning for me which includes but also goes way beyond the success of the organisation.

Walking at dusk I hear the call to prayer. Every fibre in my body sings in response. Everything is right with the world. As I sit at dinner the excitement of my day gives way to a deep, deep sense of peace. Ramadan kareem.

Beginnings, middles and endings

Coaching, ,

Today I field an enquiry about coaching from a reader of my postings on a forum for fellow professionals. I remember her vividly even though we have never met – I was touched to receive a card from her a few months back telling me how much she enjoyed my writing. It didn’t escape me that she’d gone to the trouble of going to my website to get hold of my address in order to send me a card. Her card also prompted me to reflect on my love of writing and to begin to explore it more consciously. This blog is one fruit of that conscious exploration.

I take time to respond to her e-mail and it occurs to me to include a testimonial from a client with whom I have recently finished working. I have a sense of a handing over of some metaphorical baton – from a client with whom my work is complete (at least for now) to someone who may or may not become a client in the future.

Working as a coach, my life is populated with such beginnings, middles and endings. It always gives me joy when I hear from someone who is considering investing in coaching – whether or not I end up working with them as a result, their reaching out marks a moment of decision, a first step towards some outcome that they yearn for and in which they want to invest. Such reaching out also marks a step into the unknown – an unknown which, in my experience, often goes way beyond anything people imagine in advance.

What can I say about my coaching “middles”? Many of my clients are senior leaders working in corporations. Some are fellow coaches. A few are fellow entrepreneurs. All are human beings. The dryest of business goals quickly give way to something more personal – the highs, the lows, the times of feeling stuck, the times of moving forward, the times of breakthrough and momentum. Oftentimes, such close teamwork brings me an enormous sense of privilege.

And what about the endings? These are a time to review progress and to formulate a forward path. To do this is often to sit up and take notice of – to celebrate – the progress that has been made. They are a time to mark the completion of a phase of coaching. This is not always welcome: some clients somehow never quite make time to book a final meeting, as if to do so is to recognise that yes, our coaching is over. Sometimes an ending gives way, in time, to some new beginning as former clients return to resume our work together.

Beginnings, middles, endings… I celebrate them all.

The joy of blogging

About Dorothy,

It does me good to get out every now and then, both literally and metaphorically.

This weekend I celebrated the marriage of my dear friend Kenny Tranquille to his soulmate and partner Karen, now Karen Tranquille. They married in the walled garden of the Rowhill Grange Hotel in Kent, a wonderful setting for the most personal of ceremonies. As I write this posting I get to celebrate all over again.

Whilst I was there, I had a conversation which – to keep things uncharacteristically brief – led me on my return to go Googling to learn more about a man called Hugo Schwyzer. I discovered Hugo has a blog and I dived in. A fairly random browse quickly led me to the discovery that he has been married and divorced three times and is engaged to be married for a fourth time. His blog also had an index of postings so, curious, I looked for “divorce” and read what he had to say about this.

Now, following the conversation I mentioned, I had hoped to hear Hugo speak this evening at the Kabbalah Centre in London. However, by the time I got home to check my diary I remembered that I’ve already arranged to have supper with my friend Andy. This is tucked between my return from Japan and his departure for Australia and something I don’t want to miss.

Still, reading Hugo’s blog reminded me of the facility to label postings so that readers can easily search for topics of interest at a later date. This is the first posting I am labelling in this way.

I am curious about the what this might lead to in time.

Blood test “before and after” – the results speak for themselves

Alternative approaches, Your personal and professional well-being, , ,

Today I received my photos following my visit to see Kate A’Vard. Kate is helping me to make a transition towards an alkalarian diet. My aim over time is to eat about 75% vegetables. It’s an “up and down” journey for me, so it was encouraging to get her feedback when I met with her recently.
I feel excited when I look at the difference between the photos from my first visit (above) and the photos from my second visit (below). Something I’m doing is obviously working.
I especially feel excited as I think about becoming healthier and healthier as my life progresses.
I am celebrating as I write.

The Spice of Life: where Monday night is feast night

About Dorothy

Almost twenty years after moving to Lewisham, the Spice of Life Indian restaurant remains a firm favourite. In recent years, the Spice has established Monday night as feast night, turning an otherwise quiet night into a busy local attraction. On feast night visitors enjoy a starter, main course, vegetables, rice and bread – not to mention the restaurant’s usual friendly and efficient service – for a special price of just ten pounds a head.

During the summer, my nephew Edward has been living with me whilst preparing his final portfolio of music as part of the MA he has been taking at the Guildhall School of Music. We have been regular visitors during his stay to the Spice and this evening we enjoy feast night.

Our conversation is wide-ranging. The food, by contrast, speaks for itself.

When feedback provides motivation for the journey

Alternative approaches, Emotional Intelligence, Your personal and professional well-being, , , ,

I am both a new hand and a longtime journeywoman on the road to alkalarianism. On 25th March of this year I had my first consultation with Kate A’Vard* who is providing support as I gradually adopt a new way of eating. The journey that led to this first consultation has included many choices and a great deal of research and exploration over a number of years.

On the long journey of life it’s easy to focus so much on the width of the gap between where you are and where you want to be that the gap itself seems insurmountable. So, as I approach my second consultation with Kate, I wonder what changes will show up in my blood tests. I am realistic – my diet is currently a mix of new habits and old and I’ve just returned from Japan where vegetables don’t seem to feature much on any menu. Still, I know I will feel disappointed if the changes I have made so far are not reflected in the health of my blood.

Kate begins by asking me how I’m getting on and what changes I’ve noticed. In recent months I have lost some of the extra weight I am carrying, my skin is baby soft and I am increasingly aware that my skin improves greatly when I don’t eat dairy products. Even as I think of this I feel a sense of encouragement. Returning from Japan my clothes tell me have put on a pound or two and yet I feel confident that I know what to do to restore my diet and my weight. This knowledge alone gives me a great sense of power and optimism.

Blood tests don’t lie, so I’m eager to see the results and just a little anxious. What if they’re just the same? Kate is able to show me a highly magnified version of my live blood cells and to compare them with photos from our first session. (How cool is that!) She highlights the improvements she observes and identifies my key area of focus for the months ahead. As she talks I can see for myself how perky my blood cells are. I feel a surge of excitement and I know that this alone is providing motivation for my forward journey. I feel ready to punch the air as I leave.

Rushing from my appointment with Kate to a rehearsal I celebrate with a rushed meal that is definitely “off target”. I can afford to treat myself from time to time. Still, fully aware of the benefits that are accruing over time, I am glad to resume my diet today and to celebrate my progress with renewed vigour and commitment.

*Take a look at Kate’s website if you’re interested to know more. You’ll find a link to the left of this posting.

Saying goodbye to Japan

About Dorothy

4 a.m. on Tuesday. Whilst my alarm is due to go off at 4.30 a.m., my body’s inner clock kicks in and I wake up in advance, no doubt fearing that I’ll fail to get up in time for the series of trains that will take me to Tokyo airport to catch my 10.30 a.m. flight.

Once aboard my flight, the weather deals a Joker. We sit on the tarmac amidst rain, lightening and thunder. Three hours later, when the weather has cleared, we return to the stands for refuelling. It’s best not to have the “time to refuel” red light come on in mid air.

My neighbour on the flight is a young Japanese man. The Japanese are said to be shy and still he greets me in English and later in French. He asks me how I got on with chopsticks and later he asks me for a tutorial in using a knife, fork and spoon which I gladly give him. It’s his first visit to Europe and I’m glad to help him to prepare.

He tells me about a new trend amongst the older people of Japan. Choosing to leave their homes so that their children can move in, they have nowhere to go, so they commit crimes that will land them in jail where the accomodation is free of charge. So widespread is this practice that some prisons are adapted for the elderly, with railings, for example, to support inmates in walking.

Our flight arrives late in Paris and I have missed my connection. The ground staff arrange for me to stay over and I rise at 4 a.m. to prepare to catch my 7.30 a.m. flight to London City Airport. It’s Thursday morning and I’m nearly home.

I savour the experiences I have had during my stay. I smile especially as I think of the children we have encountered: the two small girls in Nakamachidai who greeted Judy and I with a look of shock and then kept popping their heads around the door of the shop we were in to say “goodbye”; the little girl at the train station who asked my brother if he was in Japanese. It has been a visit rich in new experiences.

It’s time to say goodbye. Goodbye Japan. I wonder whether I am saying au revoir.