Active Hope from Sweet Darkness - Day 39

Day 39 (Monday 8th January 2018)

39 years ago today Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, was liberated from the 

Khmer Rouge militia by Vietnamese troops, marking the start of the retreat and fall 

of the cruel dictator Pol Pot and his guerilla forces. During the preceding four years Pol Pot 

had overseen the deaths of an estimated 1.7 million people. Pol Pot resigned in 1985, 

was convicted of treason by a people's tribunal in 1997 and placed under house arrest. 

He died a year later. The picture is of Pol Pot leading Khmer Rouge troops. He was responsible 

for the worst genocides of the 20th century.

There's no doubt 2018 is now up and running. I hope you are getting back into the swing of things. I have a busy week ahead, but (as the above picture for today's piece makes clear) things could be much worse. It's easy in the hectic rush of modern life to forget how fortunate we are.

Today's post is part of our good fortune. It is written by Siobhán Sheridan, the well-known and highly respected HR and thought-leader. As from July last year she has been the Civilian HR Director at the UK's Ministry of Defence - responsible for 57,000 civil servants who support the military. For nearly four and a half the four years prior to joining she was the Director of People and Organisational Development for the UK-based charity the NSPCC (National Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children). Siobhan's career started in a customer facing role within financial services, but it was clear that she had a flair for understanding and developing rapport with people. On joining the consumer lending business Capital One, her talents were acknowledged and she moved into HR, initially via training and development (she headed up the UK-based Corporate University) before eventually becoming the HR Director for the Cards business. Siobhán lives in London, near Tower Bridge. In addition to her work, she is a trustee of a charity supporting homeless people in South London and a committed volunteer with Crisis at Christmas. She is a popular public speaker (renowned for her pragmatic attitude and passion for doing the right thing). She is also a valued contributor on Social Media - her Twitter handle is @SiobhanHRSheri. 

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‘When your eyes are tired the world is tired also.’ 

I started the year tired. Deep down tired. Putting it down to a busy Christmas volunteering with my colleagues at Crisis I threw myself into the start of the work year only to be rapidly confronted by a health worry. Visiting the doctor about something innocuous he found a lump that he was concerned about. My mind span out of control into loops of fear and anxiety at a level I did not recall having previously experienced. A short few weeks of diagnosis soon demonstrated that there was nothing to worry about but the residual darkness remained circling in the undercurrent of my mental chatter. Work was as demanding as ever, there was no space for worry or weakness.

My studies on the Masters program at Ashridge were continuing and I was delving deep into thinking that I had never done before. Was change really possible? Had my work thus far been ill considered and naive? In what ways was I colluding with situations I found concerning? What was happening to the environment? To our world? Questions that brought with them their own darkness.

We spent a week at Schumacher College in the spring with the ecologist Stephan Harding (author of Animate Earth) considering the ecology of the world and its development over the years and the current state of the planet. I found the enormity of it almost overwhelming. How on earth could I really think that anything I do makes any difference, to anything, ever?

‘When your Vision has gone no part of the world can find you.’

On the evening of the 3rd June we arrived home from a brief break in New York. I had not relaxed there, my sense of anxiety was increasing the more that I faced into some of the subject areas that I was considering and I found myself increasingly struggling with a sense of overwhelm. That evening we set out for our normal walk, heading up towards the River Thames, to turn left and walk along the Bridge past the station and Borough Market and then home. The sky was beautiful and I took a photograph of the Shard and posted it to Twitter noting that it was something like ‘Beautiful and Brooding.’ 

Reaching the River I felt overwhelmed with exhaustion and instead of turning left as we usually would we decided to turn home. Minutes later attackers in a van crashed into pedestrians on London Bridge and its occupants stabbed a number more who had been drinking in the bars and restaurants in the Market.

We spent the weekend at home, listening to the sirens for hours and hours and as the weekend progressed venturing out into the eerie stillness of an area normally bustling with life and energy. I felt exhausted. It felt as though the whole world was exhausted. And hopeless. I felt hopeless.

‘The Antidote to exhaustion is not rest, it is wholeheartedness.’ 

In the weeks that followed, when I still jumped at every siren I heard and felt uncomfortable in my own home I continued my studies. Whilst we were at Schumacher working with Stephan Harding (author of The Animate Earth) I had been struck by Stephan’s lightness and uplifting energy in spite of the clearly concerning state of the world that he faced into every day. I recalled that he had said at one point that the way to get people to take action was not to ram the anxiety down their throat but rather to encourage them to fall in love with nature and our world again. In spite of everything that he worked around and researched every day Stephan still had hope and worked wholeheartedly in the pursuit of what he cared about.

I wanted hope too. Hope for family, my profession, our work, our world. But how could I find hope amidst the overwhelming darkness of what was happening in the world?

A beautiful book by Joanna Macy (Active Hope) helped me find a way to think about it.

‘The word hope has two different meanings. The first involves hopefulness where our preferred outcome seems reasonably likely to happen. If we require this kind of hope before we commit ourselves to an action, our response gets blocked in areas where we don’t rate our chances too high......The second meaning is about desire. When Jane was asked what she’d like to have happen in our world without hesitation she described the future she hoped for, the kind of world she longed for so much it hurt. ....It is what we do with this hope that really makes a difference....

Active Hope is about becoming participants in bringing about what we hope for....Since Active Hope doesn’t require our optimism, we can apply it even in areas where we feel hopeless.’

Macy describes Active Hope as a practice, not about ignoring our pain for the world but about using that pain as a call to action, to adventure. So first we take a clear view of reality, one which acknowledges that pain and anguish. Then we identify what we hope for in terms of the direction we’d like to move in or the values we’d like to see expressed. And third we take steps to move ourselves in that direction.

My time studying at Ashridge these last two years has given me an opportunity to start to do just that. To truly have the space and time to think about what is important to me, what values I want to uphold in my work, to move away from situations in which those values are not upheld and to move in the direction of my intentions and my hope for the world. and my life and to move in that direction.

For the first time this year in many years I will take the opportunity of the Dawn of the New Year to set some intentions for the year ahead, for the direction that I want to move in and I’ll continue to be guided by Joanna’s definition of Active Hope and also by the constant challenge offered by the last stanza of David Whyte's beautiful poem Sweet Darkness.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

(All headings are writing by the poet David Whyte, many taken from his beautiful poem Sweet Darkness.)

Returning with a spring in my step

I have really missed writing this blog, but there are times in all of our lives when other priorities need to take precedence over our own pleasures – if we care about other people then we cannot put ourselves first. Since I last touched a keyboard my family has suffered death, illness and deep disappointment and my job has been the most demanding I can remember in what is a long career. 

I write this because I enjoy doing so; it is very satisfying finding out relevant information and verifying my facts. However, it is a personal indulgence and not a necessity. I have missed putting words on a page, and now that things feel a little calmer, I’m back.

Louis Warner Sculpture - Returning

It feels appropriate to base this piece on communication (as, to me, that is what a blog is all about – even if I am only talking to myself). 

Photograph by Saratola Ban

Today is International Dawn Chorus Day – a chance to listen and recognise one of Nature’s daily wonders. I am fortunate in that when I am in Somerset, with my mother and sister, I listen to the Dawn Chorus most days – the power and quantity of birdsong is much greater than you will hear during most of the rest of the day. (Today the Chorus in London was quite restrained, but there was excellent BBC coverage, with live coverage from India to Ireland, from midnight until nearly 6.00am earlier today.) 

wren singing on hawthorn

There are many theories as to why birds sing first thing in the morning – some say that it is due to “temperature inversion” – when a layer of cold air is trapped close to the ground by a warmer layer above.  The boundary between these layers acts like an acoustic mirror reflecting the sound, so that it travels further. In addition, dawn is a good time to communicate (as the light is less good for foraging, and a bird might as well do something useful once it is awake), perhaps most importantly, singing at daybreak enables a bird to signify to rivals and prospective mates that it has survived the night, is in robust health and able to put on a good show. More promiscuous birds, such as blue tits and reedbuntings, may opt for a bit on the side courtesy of a Dawn Chorus introduction (so the Chorus is an avian aural form of Tinder), while others, who are fiercely territorial (such as blackbirds and robins), use it as an opportunity to intimidate their adversaries. I suspect the message for many of us from the Dawn Chorus is the importance to take best advantage of the opportunities available and select times to communicate that will ensure maximum impact and optimum outcomes.

I have just finished reading The Sellout by Paul Beatty – my CEO gave it to me as gift, as it had made him laugh. It is an excellent read – a witty, no-holds-barred, satirical take on attitudes towards racism and society in the USA. There is one statement, made by the main character near the end of the book that has stuck with me:

“I think about my own silence. Silence can be either protest or consent, but most times it’s fear. I guess that’s why I’m so quiet and such a good whisperer, nigger and otherwise. It’s because I’m always afraid. Afraid of what I might say. What promises and threats I might make and have to keep.”

Given the prevalence of elections (France is voting for its new president today – either Macron or Le Pen will be a clear break with tradition, my guess is that Macron will win; the UK has an election in early June; and Germany goes to the polls in September), we should all be mindful of the promises politicians make and the likelihood of their being able to honour what they say. Similarly, we, the people, need to make our thoughts and hopes known. We must appreciate that the inclination towards remaining silent and not making a stand for what is important can have severe repercussions. Not turning out to vote is as damaging as voting for something because you don't believe that what you are voting for will actually happen, just to "make a statement". We need integrity and determination to see us through the challenging times ahead.

Earlier this year there was an atrocious terror attack on members of the public and a policeman on Westminster Bridge near the UK Houses of Parliament on 22^nd March. I am a governor of Guy’s and St. Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust and we discussed the medical response to the attack at our recent Board and Governors’ meetings. Everyone was immensely proud of the way in which medical and other staff of the Trust responded - rushing to provide support (St. Thomas’ Hospital is located at the opposite end of the bridge to where the attack occurred). However, we were bemused by the decision to take casualties to various hospitals a significant distance from the disaster site when St Thomas’ was so near and had appropriate facilities – the decision as to where casualties should be taken was part of the wider London terrorist attack plans that had not previously been communicated to the Trust.  These plans, that ensure that there is a pre-determined response in the event of a terror attack or other incident, were devised by the Department of Health and NHS England – I appreciate the need for secrecy and tight security measures, but perhaps further consideration regarding the proximity of leading hospitals and medical facilities and the sharing plans with relevant parties would make things easier if there is ever such an awful event in the future.

Duke of Cambridge visiting St Thomas' Hospital in London
to thank staff who helped during the terror attack
Press Association photo

After the horrors of the terror attack in March, London felt different. On the 23^rd I went in to work as usual but the tube was surprisingly quiet at rush hour – many people chose to travel by bus, rather than using the tube, or stayed at home, perhaps after seeing the numbers of police guarding the entrances to Underground stations. The blog London Wakes, written in response to the occurrence by my friend David D’Souza, resonated with me. In this post he urges people to “build a bridge”. He is right, like Beatty’s comment in The Sellout, silence is often the product of fear and if we want a safer environment we need to speak, discuss and understand. Elaine Dang was a victim of the terrorist attack in Nairobi in 2013 when al-Shabaab opened fire in a shopping mall killing 67 people. After the event she remained traumatised long after her physical wounds had healed. She came to appreciate that the only way to dispel her fears was by enhancing her knowledge and awareness, in her case of Muslims and Islam. Since 2013 she has gone out of her way to learn and make connections and now she appreciates that the heinous actions of a few do not justify labelling a whole group as dangerous and she is no longer afraid; we all need to engage and gain understanding, especially with and from groups and people we don’t know well, if we are going to make the world a better, safer place. Hiding from the unknown, sharing in “group-think” (by only communicating with like-minded people who support our own world-view) exacerbates distrust and misunderstanding.

Photograph by Daisuke Takakura

In a much smaller way, after the Westminster terrorism event, I made this discovery for myself. That week I was trapped working late on the Friday and only escaped the office after most people had been out for hours, celebrating the end of a traumatic week. There was a very noisy crowd at the tube station when I got there – of particular note were a group of men, who had clearly been having a good time and were raucous. I kept my head down and tried to avoid catching their eyes (how very British of me). However, they got into the same tube compartment as I did and their loud banter continued. One of them deliberately sat down beside me and became insistent on starting a conversation. Not wishing to seem rude or wanting to attract further attention from the wider group, I responded, cautiously at first. It transpired that they worked for a subsidiary of a large German bank and that they had indeed been socialising for hours. A senior colleague was over from the States. He had been very kind, when one of them had been working in America, and they wished to return the hospitality. He had taken their colleague to a Blues bar so, having shown him a traditional British pub, they were heading off to see The Stranglers in concert at The Academy in Brixton.

Stranglers playing at Brixton Academy March 2017

I asked what the man I was talking to usually did in his spare time and he told me he wrote. It transpired that he used to work night shifts, which impacted on his ability to spend time with his daughter. He used to read her a story before he left for work but after a while she said she wanted him to tell her something different. He asked her what she wanted to hear about and she gave him some ideas and named some familiar objects – this was the start of his making up stories for her. Each night he would tell her the tale he had crafted during the previous night’s security shift, before being given the subject matters for the story for the following day. He has five year’s worth of tales crafted with love and his story made me see him as a sensitive and caring man, rather than the intimidating person he had seemed to me when he got on the train and forced me to speak. I walked home with a grin and a spring in my step. The world is a surprisingly good place – and made even better when we communicate.

Intimidation

I was ten, when in September 1973 two stations in central London were targeted by terrorist bombers, injuring 13 people and bringing chaos and fear to the capital.  http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/september/10/newsid_2504000/2504619.stm I lived with my parents and two small sisters in a leafy South West London suburb  - an idyllic and privileged location and upbringing.  My father was a talented lawyer and recently appointed Recorder (meaning that he was expected to sit as a judge for 3-6 weeks of the year).  It was in his legal capacity that he found himself overseeing trials of terrorist suspects and as a consequence his name was placed on that of potential targets.

On a balmy autumn evening in September ’73 my parents and I were sitting having supper with our recently arrived au pair.  My mother had suffered a very difficult birth (requiring significant surgery) for the arrival of my youngest sister, born in March, and hence an extra pair of hands were useful in looking after the family and home.  We talked about the horrors that were besetting London and other parts of the UK and Ireland and, almost as an aside, my father told us to be careful.  Little did we know how prophetic his words would be...

The following day, when he had gone to work and my mother was out shopping the telephone rang.  As the au pair’s English was still embryonic, I answered it.

“There’s a bomb in your house, you’ve five minutes to get out.”

The words chilled me and I tried to get the caller to explain, but they simply repeated the statement and then hung up.  I ran up the stairs shouting a warning and lifted my 6 month old sister from her cot.  With her in my arms and tears streaming down my cheeks I ran to the sitting room, where my three your old sister and the au pair were watching Play School on TV.

BBC's Play School
My middle sister's favourite

“Get out of the house, get out of the house, there’s a bomb.” I kept crying.

The au pair thought I was joking - a game prompted by the supper-time discussion with my parents the previous evening. It was only when I stood screaming at her to leave the house, while I cried uncontrollably, the baby in my arms, outside on the lawn, that she realised I was serious.  I lead her and my sister to my aunt’s house and it was from there that the police were called.  My mother returned to find the abandoned house being examined by bomb disposal experts.  I was never informed as to what happened thereafter.  I can only presume that the call was a hoax.  How cruel to terrorise a ten year old with such a horrific statement - my voice was clearly that of a child.

The experience had a fundamental impact on me.  I learned from that day that people are not always precious nor respected by others and that age is not a factor in how others will behave.  An adult can be less responsible than a ten year old and certainly more unkind.

I mentor a wonderful schoolgirl in Kenya called Catherine.  She goes to school in Nairobi and, since the storming of the Westgate shopping centre a week ago, with the resultant devastating deaths and destruction, my heart has gone out to her and the people of Kenya.  I do not claim to be a theologist, but I have read the Quran and I cannot find passages within it that condone indiscriminate slaughter, especially the killing of children.  It was an undeniable fact that the shopping mall on a Saturday would be full of children out with their parents and friends - there aren’t many other family-friendly and universally enticing places to go.  Over the past twenty years Kenya has progressed from a place where only basic goods were available to a consumer’s delight, but this development is limited and so people tend to congregate in certain locations at the weekends.  In the malls it is possible to buy the latest products that you would expect to find in America, Europe or affluent Asia and therein lies part of the problem.  I suspect the real issue is a clash of cultures and a reaction against rapid change and the imbalances between communities across the continent.  Kenya is one of Africa’s fastest developing economies with a burgeoning middle class.  Much of Sub-Saharan Africa is still almost medieval in the way its societies are structured and people behave - feudal tribes and groups compete for power and territory, with local rather than central control.  Countries such as the Congo, Somalia and South Sudan are dominated by men with guns who extort, rape and terrorise with little to stop them.   I have been told that after nearly 20 years of fighting to run Somalia, the Shabab had finally decided that their dream was impossible and hence were turning to more extremist measures.   What is perhaps most alarming is the manner in which the attack was carried out - not a simple, single bomb but a ruthless group of individuals determined to kill, who actually seemed to target the young and most defenceless. 

Parallels can be drawn to bullying within workplaces and organisations.  Once co-ordinated groups start operating together, to hurt and marginalise a particular individual or set of people, the impact can be devastating.  Cyber bullying has been in the headlines for much of the past few months - the focused, ruthless action of a few destroying the lives of their victims, but similar behaviour can also occur in the physical environment at work.  I have in the past joined organisations where a long-standing group of employees, who were close friends and who had been in their roles for many years, turned on the new hires who were bringing fresh ideas and enhanced approaches - partially because they were afraid of change and a destruction of the status quo.  Often there is a ring-leader who is able to encourage others into behaving in an unsuitable manner.  They know where their victims are to be found and will usually try to hurt and deter them without drawing attention to themselves.  Clearly, these people are not armed with guns and resorting to indiscriminate killing, but even so their behaviour can destroy others’ lives. It is up to all of us to remain watchful and to react when something does not look or feel quite right.  Much better to raise the alarm, even if later to discover that it is a false concern, than not to react at all and for something awful to occur.

Walking out of my house, forty years ago, with my infant sister in my arms and tears running down my face, helped to set my moral compass.  I will always stand against terror in its many forms - life’s too precious not to.  Please join me.