A Story of Hope - Day 1

A Story of Hope

Day 1 (Saturday 1 December 2018)

Number One London – the informal address of Apsley House,
the townhouse of the Dukes of Wellington. 
It was lived in by Wellington, who acquired the house off his brother, 
after the Battle of Waterloo (which celebrated its 200th anniversary in June)
It gained its name because of its being the first house passed by travellers when
entering London via the toll gates at Knightsbridge.
It stands in dignified isolation amongst the chaos at Hyde Park Corner.Add caption

Welcome to the inaugural post in this year's Advent Blog series. The theme was discussed with various people when I was at the CIPD's Annual Conference and Exhibition in Manchester and it was agreed that it should be: Heartaches, Hopes and High Fives.

I have been very remiss at advertising it. I welcome submissions from anyone anywhere in the world. The series has a global readership and following. There are a few rules, one is that this is not a sales platform, contributors write from the heart on any subject or idea that the theme has kindled for them, and the second is that each post has been crafted specifically for the Advent Blog series and as a result it becomes a surprise and novel gift to the community who read this. For those unfamiliar with the format, the Advent Blog series is the same as a conventional Advent calendar, in that a new post is published each day. However, despite being called the Advent Blog series, these blogs are not a religious countdown and the series is not limited to just 24 posts. In recent years the contributions have continued well into the New Year, with people from a mixture of backgrounds and outlooks submitting posts from around the world. All authors are welcome. I remain indebted to Alison Chisnell for founding the series back in 2011; it is a credit to her and all the contributors’ enthusiasm that the Advent Blogs have now become a much-loved annual tradition. Welcome back!

This is the first year where, for personal reasons, I have temporarily had to ease off organising the series. I am not unwell, but a number of members of my family are struggling and that has put a huge strain on me. I love them and need to focus on them and give them my time. As a result, I will be posting some beautiful and thought-inspiring posts that are on-theme from earlier years until I can resume normal curational duties. Please send me your submissions inspired by this year's theme as, providing they are suitable, they will be published a bit later in the series.

Today's piece was originally posted in 2016 and it gives me hope. It is full of emotion and depth and just happens to be totally on theme for this year's Heartaches, Hopes and High Fives theme.  It is contributed by Michele Armstrong, the MD of Acorn Principle Plus, which she established in 2003. Michele is a mindfulness specialist and Director of Coaching for Mindful Talent, which established a working partnership with Acorn in 2016. Michelle is passionate about coaching and the need for ethics and standards. She was appointed Head of the Association for Coaching Scotland in 2004. She demonstrates an impressive drive for personal growth and learning - she studied for a BA in Community Education at The University of Edinburgh, in the early 1990s, and since then has attained an MSc in Neuroscience of Leadership from Middlesex University and a further MSc in Mindfulness (graduating this year) from the University of Aberdeen. Michele is based in Edinburgh. Prior to founding her own business, Michelle was an Executive Coach for the Buccleugh Estates. As a child I spent every summer in Scotland and the stretch of the river Nith on which I fished (and in which I occasionally swam) was next to some of the Buccleuch lands - amazing countryside and passionate people working to ensure sustainable economic development for the individuals who worked on, and the communities living near and engaging with, the natural resources. Hard not to be well-grounded after the experience of being with people working to ensure the continuity of beautiful, sustainable environments. You can follow Michelle on Twitter, her handle is @micheleatacorn

As you will see from her following words, Michelle has a large heart and considerable resilience. When not helping and supporting others, Michelle is a keen amateur gardener. She likes seeing things grow. It is a pleasure having her as the first contributor of this year's Advent Blog series - perhaps we will read a second post, crafted in 2018 later in this series. 

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In considering the theme of #Advent Blogs 2016 – Heights, Hearts & Hollows, my mind was filled with so many thoughts I wanted to share under each of these topics. I spent a few days sitting with my mind full of ideas, then started to get all my thoughts out onto paper by journaling freely, until the story began to emerge. At times words would pour out in a flood and confuse my senses; at other times I would stare at a blank page in the way I imagine Ted Hughes might have done as he waited for his Thought Fox to appear.

The following poem by Rumi (and other poems I find inspiring) let me view my experiences from a different position; a place from which I could look back on the hollows (instead of from within) and upwards and onwards to new heights – enjoying the promise of things to come.

The Guesthouse

This being human is a guest house

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honourably.

He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond. ~ Rumi

The story I share with you now represents a manicured version of the words, thoughts and feelings that have been showing up at my guesthouse since the untimely death of my daughter almost three years ago. Yes, the ‘crowd of sorrows’ have been here, along with anger, disbelief and pain, as well as many thoughts I regarded as dark and shameful. And I don’t mind admitting that I was far from able to ‘meet them at the door laughing’. 

However, it is the ‘unexpected visitors’ I want to write about today, because this is a story of hope – the fourth H word.

From Hollows to Hope

My time spent in the ‘hollows’, although intense, was temporary, and arguably served some kind of purpose. At times, I felt like I was locked in a dark prison cell, in solitary confinement, alone and with no way out. 

My daughter’s death felt meaningless, unfair and isolating, and although I desperately tried to make sense of it, none came. I was seeking solutions to something there were no real answers to.

After a while, I became aware that there were no locks or chains holding me in the hollows; I was choosing to stay there, wallowing. I experienced fleeting moments of fresh awareness and glimpses of light; they told me there was hope.

With hope, I felt the darkness grow softer. The heaviness felt lighter. I felt I’d made space for new visitors to the guesthouse. Hope is slow to come, but it comes.

Anger still came and went, each time pointing the finger at something or someone different:

• myself (shoulda, woulda, coulda)
• ‘them’ (why doesn’t anyone prepare us for death – they know it’s going to happen)
• The government (well, why not!?)

Hope was a constant visitor, making it possible for me to ‘be here now’, to exist in this moment. To sit with sadness and let it be, to acknowledge the shame and doubt before letting them go; and to allow memories that, although sad, would bring joy to visit me too. I learned that I didn’t need to hold onto my guests because each one will come and go if I accept that ‘this too shall pass’.

Hope transforms Hearts

From somewhere in my memory I remembered the lotus flower that begins life in the murky depths of a muddy pool where there seems little hope of new growth or any sign of life. In some traditions, the bud of the lotus symbolises potential. Wrapped within the bud are all the tiny leaves that will one day grow out of the mud and rise above the dirty water to share their beauty with the world. The open flower symbolises an open heart.

At the time I’d been studying several courses that challenged me to view the world and my experience of it through various lenses. I particularly liked (and learned from) the ULab course (based on Otto Scharmer’s ‘Theory U’) and studies in mindfulness. Both had taken me along a path where I was learning to let go of my limited understanding of things, to listen at a deeper level, to be still and to hear what my heart was telling me. Now that I was experiencing life from a completely different perspective, and nothing seemed to make sense any more, I let go of the theory and grasped onto what was real and meaningful, and still felt tangible enough to hold onto through my grief. I was learning to open my heart, to know what it is to feel without being able to hide from the feelings and to allow myself to lean into my vulnerability.

I came to realise that I was not alone; in fact, the opposite was true. I am surrounded by love from family and friends and I am connected, on many levels, to the people who share this world with me. 

I’ve realised that this human connection gives rise to spiritual growth, and opens the door to many new visitors to my guesthouse, and to old friends who I’d almost forgotten. Hope was the catalyst in reintroducing me to the presence of love, faith, kindness and compassion. As each of these grew stronger, the ‘crowd of sorrows’ grew smaller. 

My heart continues to ache, and there’s a space in my life that I still have to navigate around. However, I’m learning to welcome vulnerability, sorrow and sadness, and I am grateful for their visits. 

With them comes a sense of the joys and the good times that, for now, are locked in the memories that accompany the group on their visits. 

One of my favourite poets, Kahlil Gibran, talks about our relationship with our children in his book, The Prophet. He said:

“Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.They come through you but not from you,And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

…You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls’ dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams." 

Writing about death he said, 

“And when you have reached the mountain top, then

           you shall begin to climb”.

Reaching the Heights

Back at the start of the story, I said my current perspective enabled me to look ‘upwards and onwards to new heights – enjoying the promise of things to come’. This is true. In the last few months, I’ve turned a corner and am building a new way of life that embraces this new, open-heartedness that has emerged out of the muddy hollows. When my daughter died, her two small children came to live with my husband and I, and our life was thrown into a completely new orbit as ‘kinship carers’. Amidst the grief, my husband and I rose to the challenge and slowly redefined what life means to us.

Life’s transitions and changes can be hard at the best of times; at the worst of times I felt like I wasn’t going to make it. And yet, here I am to tell the tale.

Gibran went on to say, in his writings about death,

“You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?”

I discovered that hope transforms the heart. I learned that we are not alone on this planet – ever – even when it feels like we are. We are all connected and if we can learn to open our hearts to feel that connection, and to be led by our hearts to build stronger connections through kindness and compassion, then we will genuinely experience the heart of life and begin to climb.

“In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring”

- Kahlil Gibran, 1995 

Looking forward to a happy X-mas - Day 1

Day 1 (Friday 1st December 2017)

One single Yule log was the celebrated heart of the household in times gone by
- in Northern Europe, at the darkest part of the year, it was traditional for a tree to be cut down
and dragged into the house to be burnt. It provided warmth and cheer and encouraged feasting.
A small piece was saved to the following year to act as kindling for the new log.
When Christianity took hold this pagan tradition was amended - in Germany it
became the Christmas tree. Nowadays it is often represented by a log-shaped cake.
Painting by Sir John Gilbert depicting Henry VIII greeting the Yule Log

It is the first day of Advent. It is with great pleasure that I welcome to the 2017 Advent Blogs Series, with pieces written on the theme of Darkness and Dawn. It is both a privilege and an honour to host this annual event. I know from people's comments, when they submit posts, and also from the observations that have been made on social media, that this series has become a much loved and eagerly anticipated annual tradition. I can promise you some wonderful blogs over the next few weeks. Last night I attended the most beautiful carol service, held by candlelight in St Bartholomew's church near Smithfield, the oldest church in London. It was exquisite, so much so that it reduced one of my colleagues to tears. It is an annual event, hosted by LHH Penna, and I always used to say that it was "the start of Christmas". Now that milestone has been usurped - the launch of the Advent Blog series is the commencement of the festive period for me. It gives me great joy to bid you "Welcome!"

The first post in this year's Series is written by Mark Hendy. Those of you who read his Advent Blog post of last year will probably remember that he lives in Wales and is a devoted dad to young Oscar, indeed being a father made him reevaluate his priorities. Mark is a highly respected HR professional and is a lynchpin in the HR social media and wider community. He established #HRHour, which takes place on Twitter every Thursday at 8.00pm GMT and is an excellent forum for the sharing of ideas and opinions (you can find out more by following @HR_Hour on Twitter) and I am sure that Mark would be delighted if you joined in. In addition, he is an active participant in #ldinsight discussions every Friday at 8.00am GMT on Twitter via @L&DConnect (his Twitter handle is @markSWHRF) and he both founded and chairs the South Wales HR Forum. He writes an excellent blog - Hendys HR Blog. In addition to HR and enhancing work and the workplace, Mark is an avid music fan (and musician) he also enjoys boxing and supporting Swansea FC (not at the same time). He is a genuinely an all-round good guy and well worth getting to know.

Mark's post touches on his love of being a parent, but be warned, it is a sobering read as well as reminding us that "this is the seasonal time for giving"...

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I’m writing this piece in November, at that point in the month where thinking about planning for Christmas is necessary. I’m at that particular mid-point between being jealous of those annoying people who cheerily brag about having completed their Christmas shopping (get a life!), and not being one of those who runs around on a fool's errand on Christmas Eve like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the movie ‘Jingle All The Way’..

Before having a family, I was a ‘do everything the week before’ type of person.

Not anymore.

I think about Christmas during my commute to work, a one hour drive in darkness across the South Wales Valleys, a route that rides parallel to my home town of Neath and across the Neath Valley, before it takes me up over Merthyr, where I drive on a dual-carriageway that runs above Merthyr’s Gurnos Estate, a notorious and vast council estate unfairly denigrated over the years, but undoubtedly a place with social problems. It is probably also filled with oodles of love and citizenship too, but people don’t seem to talk about that.

I think about a lot when I’m driving. I think about things I need to, things I want to, and of course, with the brain being a complex thing, I sometimes think about things that I could do with not thinking about. I’m human, and that’s normal.

But recently i’ve been thinking about Christmas.

Each year at this holiday season, my workplace supports a charity called The Mr X Appeal which started in 1959 when a gentleman from the South of England decided to do something. Mr X started with the aim of ensuring that children from disadvantaged backgrounds across the region who might not otherwise receive any presents on Christmas day, would wake up to at least one gift. The scheme transferred from the South of England to South Wales when Mr X relocated to the area some years later.

Mr X remained anonymous his entire life until he passed away at age 92 in 2016 when his identity was revealed as Mr Tom Bravin. Mr Bravin wanted to remain anonymous for this work as he did not want any of the spotlight to be on him, but to be on the good charity of those who donated gifts, and to focus on the plight of poverty across the country.

Mr Bravin, you are a hero.

Tom Bravin

The charity has continued since Mr Bravin’s passing, through a team of volunteers that he had assembled a few years before his death, and so his legacy lives on and each year more children are supported.

The way that the scheme works is that public bodies and charities provide to the team at Mr X the first names and basic details (gender and age) of children across South Wales who would be unlikely to receive any gifts at Christmas. Mr X acts as a middle-man to assign each child to someone who wishes to take part in the scheme and provide a gift/gifts. Obviously anonymity and safeguarding of real identities is extremely important. Many businesses and individuals across South Wales take part and last year over 4,500 gifts were donated.

Mr X Appeal - the facebook page is https://www.facebook.com/MrXAppeal/

So last week I made my annual phone call to the team at Mr X to be given the details of the children we could support this year. Usually we take the details of 2 children and so this year we have the same. The team at Mr X gave me details of the first child. A little girl who is just over a year old.

Then came the details of the second child. A boy near enough the same age as my son, 4.

This hit me like a dagger in the heart that manifested itself in an awkward silence. A lump in the throat formed and a tear grew. Something hit home that affected me and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it since.

I’ve been thinking about how a child like my son might have received nothing if we hadn’t made that call. I’ve been thinking about what the little boy knows and understands about Christmas and how difficult it’s going to be for him and/or his family.

Does he understand that he might not wake up to a gift?

Does he write Christmas lists in a school classroom for Father Christmas that he understands are likely to be irrelevant? Does he feel compelled to lie to his friends about what he thinks he’s going to get, whilst other children embellish enthusiastically as little children do, about what Santa is going to bring them?

Does he see and experience the heartache likely to be felt by his parents who watch on helplessly knowing that they are not in a position to provide a gift this year whilst most other children will receive something?

Does he even want anything, or would he prefer his siblings and parents receive something instead, if, of course, he has any?

Where will he wake up and what will Christmas morning be like for him?

And I think and worry about the parents too, not that I know whether he has any, and about what they must be going through. How are they surviving at this time of year? How much pressure must they be under and how cruel is it that this merry season has been commercialised to the extent that it creates this form of weight on the shoulders of so many.

And I think about my little boy, and how I would hate to be in the position of not being able to provide for him at Christmas. I think about the soundbites that say that most families are only ever “2 pay cheques away from poverty” and how I’m going to work so hard for the rest of my life to give him everything that he needs.

And then I feel guilty, because whilst it is awful that any child might wake up without a gift to open, the one I seem to think more about of the two children nominated for us, is the little boy, which I rationalise is due to the fact that I have a son the same age.

Each day, I leave the house and it’s still pitch black as I set off at around 6.45am for my journey to work. Each day as I drive in the darkness I think about this little boy who I don’t know and is the same age as my son. Each day I wish, somehow, I could do more.

Around 25% of the UK’s population is in relative poverty after housing costs, and that figure is closer to 30% when we look at children. Recently, The Independent reported that “the number of looked after children hit a new high of 72,670 in the 12 months to March 2017”. Over a million people used food banks between April 2016 to March 2017, and the horror stories are getting worse as the new Universal Credit benefits system continues to be problematic.

This is a tough time for so many.

But there is light, even, if not more so, at Christmas. There is dawn.

All across the country, people are doing stuff to help others at this time of year. 

People are taking part in the Mr X Appeal, volunteering at homeless shelters and donating to food banks.

People are rallying around family and friends and doing all they can to offer support and kindness.

People are making plans for elderly loved ones to make sure they’re not lonely.

People in care homes and at refuge centres are working hard to make people feel and experience the true spirit of Christmas, to feel loved, wanted, happy, warm and safe.

Outstanding acts of kindness and selflessness take place such as Sarah Millican’s #joinin twitter discussion on Christmas Day where people who are alone can have company online and talk with others throughout the day.

Amazing people are doing, and plan to do, amazing things. This is beautiful and is the very best in humanity. Because whilst it’s not perfect out there, there are many, many acts of kindness that help a lot of people in so many different ways. If the tough times are our darkness, only kindness can be our dawn.

(*Poverty Stats from the DWP, Households Below Average Income 2015/16 report, food bank usage from the ons website)

Lock those doors

Lock those doors

Day 1 (Thursday 1st December 2016)

Illustration by Simon Heath

Happy 1st December and welcome to the Advent Blogs series of 2016. The theme this year is Heights, Hearts and Hollows. 

I have received some wonderful pieces and I know that there are more to come. What soaring heights and terrible hollows some of you have experienced; however your year has been, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to you all for sharing your thoughts here.

As in former years, I will be posting one new blog per day, during Advent and into the holiday period/New Year. The daily illustrated numbers are based on topical events of the year (2016) and do not express my particular interests or leanings.

1 American, like him or loathe him, will soon run the USA - 

a real estate magnate, tycoon and former reality TV star and TV producer -  

he achieved the majority of electoral votes 

and is now the President-elect of the U.S.A.
Donald Trump will become the 45th President when he is sworn in on the steps
of the US Capitol at noon on Friday, January 20th 2017.

The Advent Blog series is not a competition, you will not be asked to vote for your favourite. However, we have some striking, thought-provoking and at times touching reads ahead. I hope you enjoy the journey.

We are getting off to a great start. The first post in the series is written by the very talented Mark Catchlove. For the past 18 years Mark has worked for Herman Miller. He is the Director for Knowledge and Insight and spends his days commissioning workplace related research and informing designers. I first encountered Mark on Twitter (you can follow him too - his handle is @markcatchlove). He writes an excellent blog. I am often struck by the fact that he is so clearly principled and values-led.

Mark wrote a beautiful piece for last year's series, encouraging people to shed a bit of light in others' lives, which was very well received. This year, again, he entreats us to do our bit to make the world a better place and it is a fitting start to the 2016 Advent Blogs. Enjoy!

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An Advent calendar is a daily acknowledgement of the anticipation of a special event – Christmas.

Christmas, a time of laughter, fun, giving and a family get together. A time of eating copious amounts of food and imbibing rather too much alcohol.

However, for some they desperately want those doors on the advent calendar to stay firmly locked.  They have no anticipation or excitement for Christmas and its jollities. Another day nearer to a time when all the hollows of their life are highlighted more than any other part of the year.

Some will not express their despair and angst outwardly – they will smile, they will dance, they will give and they will receive. Inside, however, their heart is broken into small seemingly irreparable pieces. Shattered by bereavement, bad news, illness, broken relationships or a myriad of other heart breaking episodes.

Broken hearts don’t have to stay broken – but this won’t happen without support and help from someone like you. We all need to develop a heightened sensitivity at this time - seeing what is really going on behind those smiles, and being available to do something about it.

If you’re the one with that broken heart, then please connect with somebody, anybody – using any of the communications tools that we are blessed with today. You don’t have to give all the details unless you think it would help – but that listening ear might be the difference between slowly opening those advent calendar doors and desperately hoping they stay firmly locked.

Have a blessed Christmas