On Emerging - Day 23

23rd December 2018

23 randomly-selected people is the smallest number where there will be a probability higher
than 50% that two people will share the same birthday. This is part of the Birthday Paradox;
99.9% probability is reached with just 70 people.

Today I am driving my mother and sister to Bath to meet up with my father and his wife. It will be a chance to have a fine lunch and to wish each other a happy Christmas and good start to 2019. The next time we will all eat together will be at my son's 21st party on the 5th January.

In a way today's post is a sort of celebration, in that, for me, the Advent Blog series is not complete without a post by Neil Usher. I first got to know Neil when he was the Workplace Director at Sky - he was one of the truly innovative property and facilities experts who understood the impact that the workplace has on work, the people within it and the wider environment. He has moved on from Sky to work as a property, workplace and change consultant under his own advisory business - workessence, this is also the best place to read his blogs (he has been writing them since 2011 and there are many gems in his archive). He has also written an excellent book, The Elemental Workplace. It is an interesting read and demonstrates his passion for ensuring that everyone can have and deserves a fantastic workplace. It is a pragmatic and entertaining read by a genuine expert who can demonstrate that he has practiced what he preaches. He will be writing a second book in 2019 to be published in 2020. If you want to know more about Neil, you can find him on Twitter (his handle is @workessence).

Neil is an exceptionally talented and creative writer. His pieces have a flow to them and need to be read without distractions for maximum impact. In consequence, there are no punctuation illustrations.

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On emerging

Something was wrong. Something had been wrong before, but never like this. The severance of Lou’s umbilical cord during a spacewalk was calming, a soft suffocation in isolation. She had realised she was the lone passenger on the bus home, just herself and the driver, focussed and disinterested.

The bus slowed at each stop and sped again when they revealed themselves to be empty. It didn’t stop from the pick-up through to the lone bell when Lou only alighted.

Christmas shrieked silently; garish, primary, immediate.

Lou lived across a field. Anywhere else she would have been nervous about walking alone along the main path lit by lanterns made to look old and hiding the scrub in darkness.

There was none of the sound of shuffling feet and snuffling dogs, the exhausted exasperated forced chatter of parents to babies in buggies, the duller half of a dull phone call. No-one whistled anymore, she thought. It was just Lou. The glow from a hundred lounges was at its warmest, the air she breathed in step with her pace at its coldest.

Why was this time so wrong? She ran through a list. She liked lists, when something made it onto a list it was half done, the easy half at least. The list was of stuff she was always told was important, that the vacuously-profiled always posted and shared with unwavering conviction. Solutions are easy on the internet; six things, eight things, ten things other people do that you can do and everything’s alright.

There was purpose. She knew why she was there, she understood what the big idea was and believed in it just like all those around her, she punched the air when the others punched the air when something went well and she frowned and searched her soul when the others frowned and searched their souls when it didn’t. Often, they searched each other’s souls. Usually without asking.

There was no doubt, not a flicker. She knew people who complained that they didn’t have a purpose they and their people shared, and she felt bad for them but comforted that she did.

There was meaningful work. She understood how what she did fitted in, why it was needed and how important it was. She knew that she could do things the others couldn’t, so she felt needed and valued. People would say ‘this is a job for Lou’ and this made her happy because it wasn’t ‘Lou or’ or ‘Lou and’ but just Lou.

She knew that what they were all working towards was better than anyone else had ever done anywhere and so it was special, and this had stopped her stepping off the conveyor belt so many times when she wanted to. Even if it wasn’t true.

She learned and grew, she was better at what she did and knew more stuff and was better able to handle tricky moments and worked things out better than when she joined. She didn’t need to sit in a classroom for this, every day was its own training course with no agenda or discussion of ‘what she hoped to get out of it’, just a randomly-assembled corporate assault course.

She felt resilient, even though at times she could have sworn she was broken yet always found something, enough, to get through it. Then it was forgotten all over again.

Her team were incredible, the most angled and impossible jigsaw fitted together beautifully, and everyone know that without the other pieces they were nothing. She knew she had found many of these shapes and would sometimes stand back and watch and see the completeness playing out before her eyes and wonder just how that could have been possible.

The jigsaw needed her too and she knew that. She had painted the picture on the box lid, at least with words. They had wanted to be part of it. Without her they would have been part of a lesser jigsaw, that you could do with your eyes closed.

She had a life, too. She saw her family, they valued the time spent but all wished it could have been more but knew plenty of stories of absent Mums and consoled themselves that what they had was better than what they could have had, that the grass was green enough right where they stood.

They coped with her morning distance, busied themselves with their own awakening, her flitting eyes elsewhere in a random landscape. Her children drew pictures of what she was like when she came home in the evening, her fuse cropped, her voice drawling, an unwillingness to arrange anything even stuff that was fun, pushing everything away, clawing at peace.

That was the list. Everything was okay, the pieces were in place, it should all be right. But instead she was lost.

The abandoned bus and field and path suggested she was still searching as she resolved that it could not go on. That was one conclusion, far too late, at least. She would resolve that when the string of tiny lights was back in its shabby box.

She flicked through the days past like vinyl records in their whitewashed wooden boxes, stacked, ordered, regular, inspecting some, passing over others.

Perhaps, she mused, if there weren’t other agendas playing out then the charcoal of her dolour might have made sense: the entirety of the diaphanous mesh of unarranged meetings hurriedly held, whispers loud but indiscernible, comments clumsily coded, laughter lurched and suppressed, ideas made flesh before disclosure, papers hurriedly scooped and folded, glances without words, and shallow reasons for having to go. She was there, but not always, included, but not always, visible but not always; a life, almost.

With that, it made sense. It was not what she had been looking for, but what she had been looking through.

The front door opened, the warmth prickled her face, and familiar voices scrambled to be heard. Her own voice was clear, her mind was clear. It had lifted.

A perfectly imperfect year - Day 22

Saturday 22nd December 2018

22 picture cards in a Tarot deck of 78 cards (these picture cards are referred to as Major Arcana
by fortune tellers and it is said that there are 22 to reflect the number of letters in the Hebrew
alphabet and the 22 paths in the Kabbalistic Tree of Life) - it was not until the 18th century that
Tarot were used for divination; in the 15th century they were just playing cards.

We had a splendid meal last night, lots to celebrate in addition to Christmas festivities - my cousin James' wife had learned that her amazing father, Naas Steenkamp, had died at 8.10 yesterday morning. He was a true polymath and lived an extraordinary life. Amongst other things, he was instrumental in changing South Africa by ensuring, during Apartheid, that black Africans were able to belong to trade unions and receive benefits. He wrote beautifully and was so learned. I used to love sitting and chatting with him, over a fine glass of Stellenbosch red, when I visited South Africa and I always learned something new. My thoughts are with his partner, Paula, and all the family. His was a life to celebrate and aspire to emulating. In addition, yesterday, my mother and I had an excellent hospital session, where we were informed that her deterioration in the past 12 months is less severe than had been anticipated by the experts and we have a plan to try to slow the decline. Today I am looking forward to a trip to Wells with my sister, aunt and mother and then, in the evening, we are going to see the new Mary Poppins film. 

However, enough about me and my plans for the day...we have much more exciting things to contemplate. This is Natalie Ellis's debut Advent Blog - welcome to the series :-) Natalie is an HR consultant based in Northampton. She is becoming an increasingly well known voice in the HR social media community, her Twitter handle is @NatalieEllisHR. She has become an accomplished blogger, writing for and on HR matters, her own blog is at natalieellishr.com - her own blog is up for the UK Blog Awards this year. Whilst on the subject of awards - she was the Highly Commended Finalist in the CIPD's People Management Awards 2012 for the Michael Kelly Student of the Year, sits on the CIPD Northamptonshire Committee and is a Steps Ahead Ambassador. Natalie has always enjoyed helping people (this does not mean that she is "pink and fluffy") she started her career in a customer service role before moving across into HR. When not working in HR, she enjoys a good cup of tea and listening to the Spice Girls.

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As I write this blog post, instead of sitting in my usual spot, the office at home, I thought I would get in the festive mood by sitting by the Christmas tree with it’s beautiful twinkling lights whilst drinking a cup of tea and a mince pie. You cannot get more festive than this!

Christmas is a time of year conjures up a mixture of thoughts and feelings, it is also a season of familiarity, full of traditions and not to mention an endless to do list. Whilst most soak up the atmosphere of the festive season, one thing that people think of, yet often forget to do is reflect upon the year that we are about to leave behind; sometimes we just need to take stock amongst the overflowing preparations to organise ourselves for the fresh year that awaits.

I am certain that we can all agree that resolutions are temporary and mostly ineffective (sorry diets and gym memberships!); reflective practice has a much higher success rate and is sustainable for the long term, by being more contemplative and positive rather than focussing on the negative aspects of life, we are able to truly achieve happiness in both our personal and professional lives. This may not be new information, nor will it be surprising, but by taking time to reflect on the year gone by, we are able to be better prepared for the new year. 

We live in a world of perfect idealisms, and there seems to be ever increasing pressure on our lives, but over the past few months I have embraced self-reflection techniques, and by doing so, I have been able to see the benefits of getting comfortable with who I am, purely by bringing it back to the simple things that really matter. These days, there is too much emphasis upon socially acceptable “norms”, or we worry unnecessarily about what people think of us; this led to a very important decision and I simply said to myself one day “I am enough”, and so I began to adopt reflective practices.

To be thirteen years into my professional HR career and only just uncover the benefits of self-reflection could be seen as embarrassing, but by allowing myself to be vulnerable and actually taking the time to practice what I preach, it really shows that we never stop learning and that it is never too late to start.  

Reflection is such a powerful tool, yet it is often overlooked or taken for granted. It provides an opportunity to look deeper at who we are, whilst learning from our experiences, by doing this we can not only become the best version of ourselves and embracing what makes us unique, but also acknowledge that we don’t want to change who we are as individuals, but by undertaking positive self-reflection, it also allows us to see ourselves as we are now so we can develop for the future.

When we reflect, we may notice that it is easy to see the negative aspects within our circumstances such as blaming other people or pick faults, I often hear the terms “I can’t” and “I’m not good enough for…” this only leads us to believe these phrases which impact upon our confidence levels for the long term. Reflection is not about identifying faults within ourselves, our views of these external aspects are actually directing us to look inwards, by what we see on the outside is a reflection of what we may find in ourselves. I must stress that self-loathing is not ok; no matter what your opinion is of yourself, this blog was created to help people recognise that there is hope irrespective of circumstances. We must acknowledge when we are being too harshly critical of ourselves as the long term effects can be difficult to resolve.

By recognising that these thoughts and feelings are of our own creation, we can begin to understand them and that is when the magic starts to happen!

Reflecting upon our thoughts, feelings, motivations and behaviours is not a tool designed to make harsh criticisms or judgments, it is simply to help us recognise so we can learn and develop and so that it becomes a positive practice, rather than allowing our problems and worries to control us. Reflective practice is the key to becoming accepting of ourselves, but it can be a painful process, especially when we seek solutions to our everyday worries. It is important to remember that it takes time; when we were children, we couldn’t ride a bicycle right away, it took time, patience and many hours of practice. It’s also important to be mindful that there are no shortcuts to those worthwhile destinations.

Remember to value self-awareness; it is really wonderful when you discover more about yourself and it is incredibly powerful to understand who you are, why you do things as well as clarity of your personality, emotions, strengths, weaknesses, beliefs and motivations.

To be able to adopt reflective practice, we need to be willing and truly believe that we are enough. From this we can then begin to make positive changes, encourage ourselves to truly understand our purpose and, even if this isn’t your cup of tea, you’d be surprised at the results when you start using these tools.

So, my message to you all for 2019 is simply, embrace your uniqueness, ignore that voice in your head that says, “you can’t” and realise that you are the master of your own destiny. 2018 taught me personally that life is too short, it’s time to make 2019 your very best year. 

Remember, that we cannot change the past or what we have done, but what we can do is take steps to positively influence the future.  

I am what I am - Gloria Gaynor.

My Nana - Day 14

Friday 14th December 2017

14 variations on an original theme - is the construction of Edward Elgar's much-loved
orchestral work, The Enigma Variations, composed between 1898 and 1899.
It was commenced in a spirit of humour but became a serious project in which
the composer sketches his friends and family.

Today I have set off at crack of dawn to visit our Birmingham office. I am looking forward to spending some time with the team and then, after work, I am travelling on to Durham to collect my youngest son back from university. Let the holidays begin...

Today's post is a celebration of a family member, written with much love by Annette Hill. Annette is one of those people who makes the world a better place. She works as the Director of Workforce Development for Hospiscare in Exeter, UK. She is unfailingly supportive of members of the HR and wider social media community. You can follow Annette on Twitter, her handle is @familyhrguru. She is active off-line too, she represents HR for the South West region of the UK on the national HR leads forum which is based in the South West of England. Annette cares deeply about others; she chairs a drugs and alcohol charity in Bristol and is one of the CIPD's Steps Ahead mentors. She writes an interesting blog, simply entitled Annette's Blog that covers a wide range of topics as they occur to her. 

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Heartaches, Hopes and High Fives. I wasn’t very inspired at first. I have 2 or 3 unfinished blogs on the go and just can’t quite express what I want to.

Then the oddest thing has inspired me. As part of coming through another challenging few months, I have been slightly reinventing myself. Part of this is, big gulp, letting my natural grey hair come through! A big step as many women of my age may attest. 

I love it! It’s empowering and, unexpectedly, I am so happy to see in the steel grey coming through at the sides, colouring just like my Nana’s. 

I am one of those lucky people who had all 4 grandparents, at least for the first 11 years of my life, and who had a really close bond to one in particular, Nana Coging, my dad’s mum. I’ve been thinking about her and my grandpa a lot, and about childhood Christmases spent with them.

My Nana’s House

A very modest rented mid terrace in Carlton, Nottingham

The front door was never locked.

We would arrive and my dad would open the door with a loud ‘Yoo hoo!’

We would enter a dark hallway,

Draughts held at bay

By a heavy velvet curtain, blue I think, half way down.

The ‘Front Room’ was to the left – for high days and holidays

Then into the heart of the house

A snug living and dining room with a real fire

Over the years, I would never tire

Of watching the flames, seeing pictures, inventing stories

Full of hopes for the future.

At the back, Nana’s homely kitchen, which had an Aladdin’s cave

Actually, a walk-in pantry down a couple of steps, tucked under the stairs.

On a shelf sat Grandpa’s bottle of Camp coffee.

Never far away from a barley sugar or a toffee.

I loved that place so much.

The only thing I didn’t like was the outside loo

A bit cold and scary, would I meet spiders in there?

Overnight, a chamber pot under the bed

About that, urgh! No more to be said.

Except, my poor parents, coping with us all in one room

Sleeping over on Christmas Eve.

I remember so many tiny details;

Delicate china cups and saucers, copies of The People’s Friend,

The Evening Post, helping with Spot the Ball…

The TV was tiny, black and white, in a box

Controlled by a dial on the wall, it took ages to warm up

But we still looked forward to what was

The obligatory Christmas film, the Wizard of Oz.

Until he became poorly with lung cancer, he kept well hidden

Grandpa pre-booked Christmas lunch in January

In a posh hotel for the following Christmas Day

Nana cooked the turkey for his last one

A few days later he would be gone

We didn’t know, but the clue was his untouched meal.

At home we had warm air gas central heating and a ‘feature gas fire’,

Impossible for Santa to use!

We didn’t even have a chimney, just a gas vent.

So when the Christmas lists we made were sent

We made sure he knew where to find us

At 16 Park Road, Carlton, Nottingham, England, the World.

‘Has he been yet?’ ‘No, go back to sleep!’

But eventually, we were allowed down the steep stairs

To the front room, where miraculously, overnight gifts had appeared

My brother and I need never have feared.

There on the shiny, faux leather chairs

A pillowcase each full of gifts.

In my quilted dressing gown I opened

Felt tip packs, to be arranged over and over according to the rainbow.

Colouring books, outfits for my Sindy doll,

Selection boxes, and some bigger, more costly gifts I’m sure.

But those are not the memories that endure,

What mattered was the warmth and love.

Today, we may say it was a time of hopes, heartaches and high fives!

The latter an ‘Americanism’, we never used back then

We were happy, sad when Grandpa died, and always so pleased to see each other.

Nana lived in that house for a few more years,

I used to stay with her sometimes, holding back the tears

When I had to come home leaving her all alone.

In my primary school autograph book Nana wrote

‘Smile, and the World smiles with you, Cry and you cry alone.’

Looking back, I wonder if that is exactly how she had to live.

In poor health, never a taker, always preferring to give

My Nana was one of the wisest people I have ever known.

I still miss her.