“Let There Be Light, Sound…………..” - Day 12

Day 12 (Tuesday 12th December 2017)

12 Days of Christmas, also traditionally known as Twelvetide, are the

traditional 12 days of Christian celebration running from December into the New Year.

There is debate as to whether it starts on Christmas Day or Boxing Day and hence ends 

on the night before or the 1st day of Epiphany (the 6th January).

Many people view it as unlucky to keep Christmas decorations up beyond the 12th Day.

Twelfth Night was made famous by Shakespeare, who wrote the play of that name around 1601.

It was performed on 2nd February 1602 (that date being Candlemas, the official end of Christmastide

 at that time) in front of the lawyers of Middle Temple, in their great Hall

Above is a scene from the 400th anniversary performance, performed by actors from The Globe, 

starring Mark Rylance. I am fortunate to have seen it.

How's your week going? My diary is becoming increasingly complicated as the holidays draw nearer. Today I am commencing a two day training course on a psychometric tool that we are utilising at work, followed by chairing an NHS Committee on Quality and Engagement this evening - it will be a busy and interesting day at my end, I hope yours will be too. I will do my best to remain in contact during the day but no promises.

Today's piece is written by Phil Marsland. Phil runs his own HR and Leadership consultancy, based in North Yorkshire, the firm's work is founded on his passion for making a difference through pragmatic solutions. Before starting his own business, Phil worked in HR in a senior capacity for a number of global names. He is a respected and much valued member of the HR community and has done much to give back to the profession, including co-founding Connecting HR York in 2015. Phil has been a regular contributor to the Advent Blog series for a number of years, I'm sure you'd like his piece on shopping written in 2015 which was his second ever blog. He is now a well-known voice. He is a sporadic blogger with a business site - PhilMarsland.net -  and a more social one  - FulfordPhil - 'don't call me HR, call me Phil'.  You can follow him on Twitter - his handle is @FulfordPhil. When not doing people stuff Phil is likely to be commenting on or making music - he has an impressive vinyl collection, he also enjoys football and follows Manchester City.

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I may not know much.  I know that!  I'm not an academic or literary or musical or sporting or cultural or religious or societal authority on anything.  In fact, the only thing that I know is what I think.  And I do think, a lot.  Deep and dark at times.  Bright and sparkly and silly and superficial and fun at others.  And I write.  For me.  And to share.  To maybe spark something in you.  To maybe help.  

For me 2016 was a blur of whirling hope.  Sparks and oxygen, lighting me up and helping me to breathe in the suffocation of traditional HR.  Me pushing the edges.  Trying so so hard to light a fire in others, who frankly only wanted the comfort of their traditional HR fixed mindset.  Intent on forcing me back into my box.

So, I jumped off the edge.  Full of hope…………………….and I’ve been falling with(out) style since.

2017 has been filled with Darkness.  In the world.  In my world.   At times things have been horrible. Without out hope.  At times there has been hope, only to be snuffed out.

Tears, loneliness, eating badly, drinking, getting fat…………… descent.......falling from the point where I stepped off.  Falling further than I knew I would.  Not actually losing much (as I’d cushioned my fall so to speak)......not quite losing my mind.......not life and death.  But loss and change.  Small words.  Massive personal impact.

In many ways it's been about discovery and getting over myself.  It's been about letting go and listening.  Listening to the silence and the non silence.  Silence when I have reached out.  Silence from those who were such a part of my world.  Silence from job applications.  Silence that is deafening.  Silence that had stopped me from hearing.

Saying, without saying "You're not useful to me anymore”.  Or "You're not for us"

Silently telling me this.

In the Darkness, life can be very silent.

Eventually, things that I couldn't hear before became a faint whisper.  Something that I couldn't quite make out.  Frequency and volume almost drowned out by the Darkness.  But there nevertheless.  Insistent.  Persistent.  Waiting for me to listen.

"It's over. Move on"

Amplification of the whisper has come from special people.  People who care a lot.  People who I care about.  People who were close by, but who I couldn't hear.  People who helped with Joy and connection, vinyl re-discovery, and our shared love of rock, living on!

But I still needed to quieten. To calm. To focus. To come back. To be able to listen. To turn up the volume on the wordless whisper.

Until I could hear the wordless voice pushing me on

"You're not HR anymore. Let it go"

How hard is that? Letting go of what has been your identity for your entire working life?  Despite me shouting at my profession for years for being rubbish, it was still my profession.  How do I let go of that part of me?!

It was the persistent insistent whispers that helped me let go.  And great people.  In my face.

"You're really good at this (other) stuff.  At really seeing what's going on with people.  With leaders.  With teams.  Within businesses.  At articulating this.  At creating something else.  You've really got something. You inspire people........I need your help"

But the self doubt voice is still strong.  Holding me back.  Me holding me back. Fear and self doubt.   Can I do this?  What if I fail?  What about security?  Do they really mean it?  Need for approval, huh?

And now there is some light in the Dark.

Something new.  Something created.  Not perfectly formed first time.  Self conscious and of stumbling steps.  Failing a few times.  But definitely shafts of light on the horizon.  The Darkness pierced.  

Just a glow at first.  Deep purple, gradually softening gaining more colour more depth, more colours. Being clearer to me, to others, visible.  Light red, yellow, whitish into blue.  Briefly a rainbow in the dark, and now a bright sky blue sky. 

And I stand before it able to say.....

"I'm no longer HR. I have my own Leadership, People and Culture business.  And I’m here to help.”

And I'm smiling, in the light of my new Dawn.   Full of hope once more.  Older, wiser, a bit fatter (don’t worry I’m on it!).  But better, definitely better.  More able to hear, more able to help.

I hope you can hear too.  Hear what you need to hear. 

Because there is always light, sound (and maybe drums and guitars!!) And maybe at Christmas, just this one time, we should all……….Let There Be Rock!

With Thanks to the Coal Dust

Day 47 (Saturday 16th January 2016)

47 AD, the year in which Vardanes I of Parthia (which later became known as Persia and
is now parts of both Iran and Iraq) was assassinated by his brother, Gotarzes, whilst out hunting.
Vardanes was praised by Tacitus for being a young and highly gifted ruler. During his reign he reimposed Parthian
control over the city of Seleucia on the Tigris. His brother claimed the throne after Vardanes death, but Gotarzes II
was cruel and debauched, resulting in the Parthians rebelling and petitioning for aid from Rome to
depose him - this area of the world has a tradition of civil war and unrest over the past millennium.

Today's deeply personal and powerful post is anonymous. Once you read it you will understand why. It has been published today at the author's request, as today is her 40th birthday. I am sure you join me in wishing her a happier and easier year ahead.

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The Context

I am forty today.  It’s a moment of sorts.  I drafted this blog in 2015, hoping the advent series would run until 16th January so I could write about the threshold of turning forty.  I drafted this blog to contain words about having courage to overcome fears, drawing strength from the love and support of family and friends, and daring to achieve our dreams as we live our lives.  I took that approach because 16th January 2016, in some sort of indescribable twist, was also the day I could tell everyone I was pregnant for the first time.

Except I’m not pregnant anymore.  

My miscarriage started on Christmas Eve and it was in a Holby City Christmas that my love and I found out that “there is no heartbeat”.  The complications that ensued resulted in emergency surgery which meant, even in the depths of what was A. Nightmare. we were able to prioritise.  Our minds turned to my health above everything else.  

That paragraph has taken me two weeks.  

It has taken me two weeks to find courage to write about something that is awful and common.  Common, yes.  But not common to me.  Common, yes.  But hidden away in rooms with two-seater sofas, a high backed chair and pastel coloured leaflets. Common, yes.  But so difficult that we don’t speak about it. Common, yes.  But if I tell others about it does that mean I am weak, not smart anymore, not hire-able?  I chose to rewrite this blog because as it turns out, it is still about overcoming fears, drawing strength from the love of family and friends and achieving our dreams.  

The Theme

Comets.  For me it’s about light.  The light we leave as trace in our connections with others, whether we are aware of it or not. It is also the light we turn to when we need it. Perhaps spiritually or perhaps quite literally.  When I walk in nature with the sun on my face, my shoulders don’t just drop, I become aware of them in a different way.  I am light without what I had been carrying with me.  In its absence it becomes noticeable.  In that light, as I walk, I can see more clearly, examine more accurately and understand differently.

Comet McNought, 2007

Coal dust.  For me it’s my family and my lineage.  My family are coal miners. One granddad was out on strike, whilst the other worked in HR for the National Coal Board.  One a steady and smart man, packed to the brim with a sense of fairness and family values, and the other exactly the same.  I picture a dense grey sparkling matter, as vast as space, that I lean in to when I need it.  A substance that accommodates me and that provides resilience.  It is a rebooting space to go to.  My personal Etch-a-Sketch.

The Point

It is the strength I find, in my moments in the light and the dark, that is carrying me now as I get used to being two people for a while.  The one that says “Yes, it was lovely thank you, very restful.  No, we never do much for New Year.  How was yours?” and the one that is woken by sweaty panic every morning because the anaesthetic isn’t quite out of my system and I don’t know where I am or what time of day it is.  I just know to breathe and it will become clear.

Some of the Moments

The sun on my face the first day I was babysat by my brother.  I found him to be a bit more lenient than my folks and my other half, so I made my escape. With my laces trailing I shuffled down the driveway to lean against the fencepost.  I tilted up like a sunflower. I let the sun pour over my face and I let myself cry.

The darkness in the night where the fear is high.  It’s a place where I don’t know what will happen to me. Even though I know none of us really do know. It is where vulnerability courses through me.  The hand I reach for holds me and keeps me steady.

The smiles I get from scanning Facebook.  At its best, it is a gentle Elvish nurturer, connecting me to my loved ones around the world.  At it’s worst, it is a game of demonic roulette, as it can conjure up images that close up my throat and squeeze out my lungs.  Painful and critical reminders that life is going on.

How relaxed I feel in my body when I dream of a holiday.  My mind palace is a different place to that of Holmes', and I like to go there a lot at the moment.  I spend time in a place where I am well and free and where I can make plans for some devilish fun.  Those times will come.

The voices of the women in the recovery room.  Gentle lady after gentle lady emerged from the fog to hold my hand, to share their words of connection; “I have been where you are”, they said, one after the other.  “Fruit and vegetables, and plenty of sunshine.” And when I cried, the lady that leaned in and whispered slowly in my ear “Breathe, long, and deep”. She stayed close to my ear and breathed with me for a while.

Some sort of conclusion

We control very little.  We are in an industry where we long for authenticity, for showing up, for openness, humanness, purpose and mindfulness.  Yet there are times when we need to know we don’t have to show up at all.  Times when we need the world to hold us and contain parts of us that we can’t contain for ourselves. We need our protected places to go to in solitude and with loved ones where there is strength in the light and the dark.  We can put a little bit of ourselves here and a little and different part of ourselves there.  For now, I choose to show up in words.  I understand in a new way what it is to say; “this writer has chosen to remain anonymous to protect their identity”.   There is a part of me that needs protecting on my 40th birthday. That is my trace today.  With thanks to the coal dust.

Anon.