Tag Archives: personal reflections

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.

Coming home

Emotional Intelligence,

There are times in our lives when those things that are calling for our attention give us a nudge.

In 2006, during the months after the death of my father, my energy dropped for a while so that I chose to say no to some things to which I would normally say yes. This was a time when I learnt which relationships supported and nurtured me and which relationships asked more of me than they gave to me. This was a time when I learnt which people looked to me for help and support at a time when I couldn’t give it – and couldn’t take no for an answer.

Returning from holiday and in the midst of jetlag something similar seems to arise. Six months after my cleaner moved away from London I already had a creeping awareness that it’s time to find someone to replace her. Coming back into the house on my return from holiday this gentle awareness is replaced by a sinking of the heart as I see how neglected my home seems. And finally, in the midst of pouring rain, I call Paul the roofer to make an appointment for him to take a look at my roof.

Working with clients in coaching, as I do, I am aware that the issues that greet us in these moments can vary hugely. They include all the gently nagging questions in our lives. Am I in the right job? Should I stay in my marriage and make it work or leave and face the consequences? Will I ever get the promotion I am seeking without the support and sponsorship of my boss? There are of course many ways to avoid these and other questions, from the circular inner dialogue that keeps us just where we are, through the arguments with our loved ones that keep our eye away from the key issues, right through to the glass of wine that dulls the senses.

So, in these moments of coming home, we have the choice – whether or not to come home. In these moments we decide whether or not to come home to ourselves and to be present to what’s truly alive in us and asking for our attention.

On visiting Hiroshima

About Dorothy,

Hiroshima.

As Viktor Frankl (in Man’s Search for Meaning) and others have highlighted, we are meaning-making creatures. The people of Hiroshima have had to make meaning, both individually and collectively, of their experiences. So it is for the visitor.

At 8.15 a.m. on 6th August, 1945, the Americans dropped the world’s first nuclear bomb, on Hiroshima. About 300,000 people are believed to have been resident in the city at the time and 350,000 people are believed to have been in the City on the day of the bombing. They included Japanese, many thousands of Koreans working as forced labour and American prisoners of war.

In the hours, days and months immediately following the bombing 140,000 men, women and children are believed to have died, whilst many more have died each year. Approximately 117,000 hibakusha (A-bomb survivors) are still alive today. The youngest of these were still in the womb at the time of the bombing.

One building, originally the Industrial Promotion Hall, has been preserved as a reminder of the near total destruction of the City by the atom bomb. In the Peace Memorial Park we visit the Museum which provides extensive information about the circumstances in which the bombing took place as well as about the bombing and its after-effects. The Peace Memorial Hall records the names and photographs of hibakusha along with extensive personal testimony. I watch a video with subtitles in English of a man, 11 at the time of the bombing, describing his life as a child in Hiroshima as well as his experiences of the bombing and of everything that followed.

The over-riding voice of Hiroshima, speaking through museum displays as well as personal testimony, is balanced and recognises many points of view. It includes the invitation to the Japanese people to recognise their country’s history in wreaking violence on the world. It also stands as a powerful voice for peace in the world, inviting exploration of what it takes to live in peace. Without war as well as without nuclear weapons.

Even as I am faced with the full extent of the damage to Hiroshima and its people I feel at peace. I recognise that, no matter what the actions of others, we get to choose our response and to set our intentions for the future. We get to share our intentions and to make requests of others. That the people of Hiroshima have chosen to learn from their experiences and to stand as a voice for peace in the world provides a powerful example and an inspiration.

Strangers: friends you haven’t met yet

About Dorothy

Nakamachidai, where my brother is living during his stay in Japan, is a new town. You could call it a suburb of Yokohama which in turn is a suburb of Tokyo.

The town’s newness is evident when I make my first gentle tour of the area: gentle because of the heat. Together with Judy, my sister-in-law, I walk through the bamboo forest close by, arriving quite soon in farmland. The farmland intrigues me. This is not an area in which you find paddy fields. Rather, plots of land look like large allotments or market gardens.

We visit several temples, from the large new temple just down the road to the tiny temple tucked away in the hills above the new main road. You quickly realise when you look at what Japan has to offer to the visitor that you won’t be short of temples to visit (or, come to that, of noodles to eat). And all on the way to Ikea.

I am reminded today of this recent history of local change. I take time to visit a small shop I have passed most days and buy four small bowls. The woman who serves me is selling edamame beans and gives both Judy and I the gift of a bag of beans, fresh from her farm that morning.

This is also a reminder that, wherever I go in the world, the kindness of strangers, freely given, has the power to cross barriers of language and culture and in this way to make friends of us all.

Sucking the marrow from the bones of life

About Dorothy, ,

Tomorrow I travel to Japan to spend two weeks with my brother Alan and my sister-in-law Judy. Alan is making an extended visit in order to work with his Japanese colleagues and his wife Judy, a teacher, is with him for the duration of the summer holidays.

The last few days I have increasingly been listing my “things to do” under the headings “before I go away” and “when I come back”. Today is crunch day – anything that doesn’t get done today won’t get done until I return.

As I write I am waiting for a call. My caller is late in phoning and I decide to clear a few e-mails. I read Michael Neill’s most recent newsletter and am struck by a quote, tucked away at the bottom, from the writings of Henry David Thoreau:

“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.”

I take a few moments, waiting for my call, to celebrate the life I am living.

Celebrating your comments

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In recent weeks I have started to share with people details of my blog, still in its infancy. Friends, family, clients and colleagues have been reading, making comments and – with a curiosity I had not anticipated – asking questions. (Why blogging? How many readers do you have? etc.) Some readers have tried to leave postings only to discover they have to register before commenting.

Returning home on Wednesday after the earliest of early starts I notice a first comment on the blog and am surprised to notice the excitement I feel. Hurrah! Yippee! Yeahah!

On Thursday, I take a moment to send a personal thank you to Len, the wise owl, who commented on my posting of Saturday, 12th July. His good wishes bounce back almost immediately.

This morning, I take a moment to record this. I am curious about the comments that may come in future as well as joyful as I think of this first comment, recognising the joy I feel in connecting with other people in a wide variety of situations and by a wide variety of means.

I feel grateful. Blessed.

Celebrating the power of nonviolent communication

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In recent days, my inbox has been peppered with messages from colleagues who, like me, attended an international intensive training in something called “nonviolent” or “compassionate” communication in July 2007.

Nonviolent communication is the work of Marshall Rosenberg and it was Marshall who ran the training. Marshall has dedicated much of his life to evolving a practical approach to communication, which could be seen as the manifestion of the biblical injunction to “love our neighbours as ourselves” or – in more recent times – the injunction of business gurus and psychologists alike to practise “win, win” communication. It has applications in many areas from building relationships that enrich with loved ones, through working with children in schools, through building effective business partnerships to mediation in a variety of settings.

To some, the word “compassionate” might well suggest something soft and woolly – a bit of a “love in”, perhaps! I think of this kind of communication as real or courageous conversations. In practising nonviolent communication I have learned to share myself more fully than I have ever done before, for example, risking whatever response might come my way.

Some relationships have become closer along the way. I also notice I have more and more moments of ease and connection – of intimacy even – with all sorts of people I meet on my way, from colleagues on courses to strangers on buses. Some relationships have ended, too, as the process of exploring reveals needs and intentions that do not sit well with each other. I have never regretted these conversations, nor these endings.

So, as I write, I think of my colleagues from the International Intensive Training and our days together in the beautiful Jura mountains of Switzerland. I celebrate so many moments during this programme that were meaningful to me. I celebrate my colleagues and everything they bring. I connect with the sense of blessing that comes as I think of these colleagues and of these experiences. I connect with the sense of gratitude that is alive in me as I think of everything that Marshall Rosenberg has done to develop this means of communication and to share it across the world. Blessings upon him. Blessings upon my colleagues. Blessings upon us all.

Ladies of the London Symphony Chorus

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Having my own business allows a degree of flexibility and still there are choices to be made. Months ago, in the midst of a busy singing schedule, I opted not to sing this week in two concerts of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony at Saint Paul’s Cathedral, recognising the time commitment involved and the challenges of juggling these demands with my work schedule. Still, I opted to support the chorus by travelling today to Tewkesbury Abbey to sing in Vaughan William’s Sinfonia Antartica, knowing ahead of time how exhausted the choir would be today.

So, my coaching schedule has been condensed and I start the day early in order both to prepare for my day trip to Tewkesbury and to be fully present to my coaching clients before I leave. As I travel to meet my singing colleagues I savour the progress of my clients, enjoying the sense of privilege that comes from our work together.

As I board the coach there is much talk of the Mahler concerts and I experience the slight flutter – a sense of loss – that comes with knowing I have chosen to miss two important concerts. Four hours later, the ladies of the London Symphony Chorus arrive in Tewkesbury just in time to rehearse the ethereal siren-song which emanates from the rear of the Abbey at the beginning of the Sinfonia Antartica. We have time to rehearse and to catch a bite to eat at My Great Grandfather’s across the road before returning to hear the orchestra play Ravel’s Le Tomberau de Couperin and Bruch’s Violin Concerto Number 1 before we sing. Alina Ibragimova plays the solo violin with a commitment and assurance beyond her young years.

22 years into my membership of the Chorus I know that whilst we sing together, our memories of concerts are often strictly personal. I have my own special reasons to enjoy singing in the Abbey, and I enjoy these associations as well as the evening’s spirited performance.

We travel into the night to get home. I blog. It’s already time for bed.

Getting up early for school

About Dorothy, Developing as a leader, ,
“The Teaching Awards provides a unique opportunity
for us to celebrate those who, tirelessly and often selflessly, dedicate their lives to securing a future for the next generation”
Lord Puttnam of Queensgate CBE

5 a.m. is not my favourite time in the morning.

My alarm goes off at 5 a.m. this morning. Perhaps I should say alarms: I have set my mobile phone and, at the same time, Marvin Gaye springs into action. I text Alan (“wakey, wakey”) and then get up to shower and get ready.

Today I take off my hat as business woman and executive coach and put on my hat as judge on behalf of the Teaching Awards. The Teaching Awards provide an opportunity for anyone who chooses – parents, pupils, colleagues and so on – to say thank you to a favourite teacher.

Already, our judging colleagues have been busy visiting schools around the country to identify the finalists at regional level. As judges at national level we have the – almost impossible – task of identifying the “best of the best” in our category, the The Royal Air Force Award for Headteacher of the Year in a Secondary School. Today we make our first visit to one of our shortlisted schools. We meet a variety of children, parents, governors and staff who all share their special stories and celebrate their headteacher.

As a visitor to schools I am often struck by the simple vision, passionately held, that headteachers have: to do what’s right for the children in their care. The headteacher we meet today is no exception.

I am moved when she talks of her own reasons for feeling so passionate about the children in her school.

London’s 7/7 bombings

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Wikipedia records how, on July 7th, 2005, at 8:50 a.m., three bombs exploded within fifty seconds of each other on three London Underground trains. A fourth bomb exploded on a bus nearly an hour later at 9:47 a.m. in Tavistock Square. The bombings killed 52 commuters and the four suicide bombers, injured 700, and caused disruption of the city’s transport system (severely for the first day) and the country’s mobile telecommunications infrastructure.

Londoners were already used to the effects of war and the threat of violence. Remembered for their “blitz spirit” during the Second World War, they had also witnessed bombings and threats of bombings by the IRA (Irish Republican Army) between 1971 and 1999. The 7/7 bombings of 2005, detonated by suicide bombers on crowded commuter trains and buses, took violence in the capital to a new level. Wikipedia records: The series of suicide-bomb explosions constituted the largest and deadliest terrorist attack on London in its history. I remember a strange moment when I suddenly looked back on the IRA’s telephoned warnings with gratitude, recognising that lives had been saved by these warnings and by the evacuations that followed.

Today, Londoners remember the bombings of 7/7. Amongst the acts of remembrance is a documentary in which survivors and their loved ones talk of their experiences. The documentary closes with images of Gill Hicks on her wedding day, walking down the aisle just five months after both her legs were amputated below the knee.

Watching their testimony I am filled with love for my fellow human beings. Without exception.