Dusk and dawn - Day 49

Day 49 (Thursday 18th January 2018)

49, the age of King Naresuan of Siam when he died. On the 18 January 1591,
King Naresuan the Great killed Prince Minchit Sra of Burma in a single elephant combat,
marking the end of Burmese invasion. The battle is one of the epic moments in Thai
military history and the day is now commemorated as Royal Thai Armed Forces Day.
King Naresuan ruled 

I have much to think about today - yesterday early evening I spent some time in one of the leading London hospitals - working with the leaders, looking at data relating to patient safety, staff well-being and the levels of care. Unlike many hospitals Guy's and Saint Thomas' did not stop undertaking routine operations during the recent crisis and did not grind to a halt during the peak of the severe outbreak of flu that has hampered so many other Trusts; indeed emergency patient care was provided by the Trust to other Trusts' patients to help other hospitals that were struggling in the area. At present across most of the NHS more nurses are leaving than joining and, without sufficient nurses it is impossible to establish extra beds for patients during times of crisis.

Today's post is by Jo Mortimer. Jo is a successful business woman - she has grown and runs one of the most significant divisions of the global recruitment firm Angela Mortimer. The ethos of the company rests on integrity (both towards individuals and clients). By going out of your way to understand what an individual or a business needs, it is possible to ensure a great cultural fit where all parties can thrive. 

Jo is highly intelligent and a delight to spend time with. After reading (and gaining a 1st) in Psychology at Cambridge, Jo commenced working in education as a primary school teacher. She is a gifted musician and singer and, despite no longer running youth choirs and school curricula, she remains actively involved in the folk music scene. Jo lives in south London with her enchanting daughter and brilliantly supportive husband. You can connect with her on social media (her Twitter handle is @J0Mortimer.

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I love this series of blogs. It brings a real sense of connection to a disparate group of people. This year, as is often the case, mental health has been a strong theme. When we hosted a seminar on the topic this year we were overwhelmed by the response of HR professionals now keen to engage with it. Corbyn has likewise been strong on the theme. It seems the taboo around mental health is melting with the ice-caps. But how to go about nurturing it, and helping others do the same?

At this time of year we find ourselves celebrating the dusk of the old year and the dawn of the new – a celebration older than time. The dominant paradigm where I live in the UK is the Christian imagery, with advent calendars and nativity plays a plenty, and a few of the old pagan traditions still pleasantly loitering like dear grandparents around the fire.

The story behind the Christmas festival – in its most literal interpretation – is that a virgin gave birth.

Sorry to be the one to bring up religion at the Advent blog dinner party, but I think it’s fair to say that taken out of context – or, well, in any context – lots of people might think that was a bit of a tall one. However, at this time of year, many learned and well respected members of society stand in pulpits, sing in the pews and “proclaim the virgin birth”.

Over the past two years various births, deaths and marriages in my life have led me to engage with the Church on a logistical level and it was when exploring the various Christening/naming/child celebration options, I got in touch for the first time with our local vicar.

In our living room, with my husband sitting awkwardly with a cup of tea I knew he wished was a single malt, I asked her what she thought people who went to church actually believe. Her response was: “look around the congregation, 85 different people, 85 different beliefs”. This was a small revelation to me. 

Having attended a “C of E” school, I was familiar with Christian traditions and had even had what I thought was strong personal faith as a teenager. But then aged 16 I read Freud who basically changed my mind. I set up camp with Richard Dawkins et al, essentially still a fundamentalist but on the other side of the fence. I rejected virgin births along with Father Christmas and other fairy tales.

As an atheist fundamentalist, you can’t really go to church, because it’s against your religion. Just like you can’t go to visit Santa in his grotto….or can you?

Rejecting ideas is all very well, but as the mental health theme is showing us, human beings still have needs of the spirit. We long to be part of communities, to be loved, to have company, to have families, to sometimes have distance from those families, to feel useful, supported and part of something bigger than ourselves.

A Part of Something Bigger by Laurel Pettit

As a Philosophy student, I also explored non-intellectual approaches to spirituality through meditation, yoga and Taoist Tai Chi™. Through Tai Chi I have had exposure to Taoist, Confucian and Buddhist rituals and chanting. I have never been expected to understand, let alone vouch for the content of the chanting. Indeed some of the chants are so old they are now incomprehensible to anyone of any dialect, and the syllables are simply chanted, keeping the ritual alive. My experience must be similar to that of the English illiterati of centuries past, enjoying the break from the daily grind as the Latin readings and communal singing washed over them.

Because I didn’t have to engage with the meaning of the chanting, the fundamentalist atheist in me was able to relax, and I felt great benefit. I was physically energised, enjoyed community with my fellow chanters and allowed my brain to stop whirring. I also found the space when celebrating the All Souls festival in the Chinatown of Toronto, Canada, to have a good old cry and let go of grief and tension I hadn’t even realised I was holding on to.

London is a wonderfully cosmopolitan melting pot, but as with anywhere in the world, Taoist temples are few!  With the discovery that our vicar doesn’t mind me coming to church and adding a 86th belief system to the existing 85 she counts in her congregation, I’ve discovered a delightful community, quite literally on my doorstep, where I can go on the lonely Sunday mornings when I would otherwise be pushing my toddler on a solitary swing, quietly wondering what the point is.

I think lots of us stay away from church because we are ourselves fundamentalists (albeit of the atheist persuasion). Understandably it feels hypocritical to take part in a ceremony that you can’t wholeheartedly buy into. Equally, we wouldn’t want to stand up and say: “I believe in Santa Claus, gifter almighty, maker of candy and sleighs”. (Except perhaps in the grotto at the school Christmas fair, when it would be rude not to.)

The beauty of the culture of the Church of England tradition, and something I hadn’t properly appreciated, is that everyone is welcome to come to church, no matter what you believe. Heck, they even have the ‘doubting Thomas’ story for those of us who know we don’t know.

I suppose life’s finally gifted me the humility to realise I need the support of a community and the space to connect to The Universe/Space/Peace/Quiet/Reality/Truth/God* (*delete as you see fit – though in my view defining the last one can be a can of worms).

I also think that if congregations dwindle and we lose the churches, we will have lost a baby in all that murky, grubby bathwater. Whether it’s a stained glass window, a candle, a sermon, a carol, an old lady talking to your baby or a mince pie that gives you pause for thought, there’s a rich tapestry on offer that in my view has yet to be replicated on one’s doorstep.

All Saints Church Denmead - stained glass window

In an age of frightening radicalism and polarisation, churches have the potential to become a place where moderates can come together, connect with their community, take some time for reflection and enjoy a rare moment of peace. The more the merrier!

 

Comet's tail

Day 32 (New Year's Day - Friday 1st January 2016)

32 muscles can be found in each of a cat's ears (compared to just 6 in a human's).
A cat can turn its ears 180 degrees.

Welcome to 2016 - a whole new year for us to play with. I hope it is a wonderful one for you and all those you care about.

David D'Souza is the contributor of today's New Year's Day post and, no matter how hard you partied last night, I am sure that you will find it an excellent read. You can always rely on David to raise a smile whilst simultaneously making a thought-provoking point - you should try his regular blog for HRD (HR Director magazine) or his own blog, 101 Half Connected Things, as well as his regular posts on LinkedIn. Since April 2015 David has worked as Head of London for the CIPD, the UK-based professional body for HR and People Development, championing better work and working lives. I view myself as extremely fortunate in having David as a friend and former colleague: he is one of the brightest, most innovative, commercially-minded, values-centred and inspirational people I know who is involved in transforming HR and the workplace for the benefit of all. He is a devoted father and genuine partner and pal to his wife, as well as a wonderful friend; being selfish, my only regret since he joined the CIPD is that he works so hard, and attends many evening events, so that I am unable to see him as often as I would like. David - I wish you and your lovely D'Souza ladies (and all of you reading this) an awesome 2016.

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So, this year’s topic is Comet’s tail. I looked quite hurriedly at the topic, but it seemed to make sense given the festive timing and the fact that most of you will have picked up your presents from Santa without giving any thought to supply chain conditions.

Retail Week Christmas Index for 2015

An overview of the working conditions at the North Pole:

If you are the reindeer following Comet - or any of the other reindeer at the front - I imagine the view is a little bit unpleasant. Seeing Comet’s tail will be the least offensive part of the role. 

Shackled to a sleigh with an unreasonable expectation as to how much work you can do, you stare ahead and all you can see is another reindeer’s posterior. A black hole of hopelessness. You only get to follow the path already taken by someone else and I imagine that, at times, the whiff of carrots is overwhelming. It must be hard to keep track of progress when your field of vision mainly consists of the (slightly too close for comfort) bottoms of colleagues. I know I wouldn’t fancy that role.

If you are Rudolf you have been part of one of the most celebrated cases of workplace bullying that I’m aware of. Singled out for your nose being bright (last time I checked this isn’t explicitly covered under the Equality Act, surely a shortsighted piece of legislation) it appears that Santa doesn’t really need you unless the weather is even more unpleasant than usual - at which point suddenly you are promoted without any paperwork or mention of an adjustment in salary. And you are supposed to be thankful that, at last, you will stop being teased by colleagues, not because they realise their previous behaviour was wrong but simply because you are slightly more useful to them now.

For the reindeer at the front the experience is entirely different. The crisp night air must be exhilarating as they fly through the air on that most special of nights, delighting in the sense of teamwork that ensures that others follow their direction and multiply their effort. The destination for them must be clear and, even when they are tired, they will be the first ones to realise that a break or the end of the night is coming soon. And their face will be easiest to make out in any team photos.

For the elves apparently you only get one day off a year – at Christmas – and you never get to see the end consumer of your product. They’ve just had their annual break.

For Santa the job is even easier. You take all the plaudits, call out directions and occasionally make motivational noises. All of the thanks come your way – you get pies and alcohol, your team get leftover veg. 

It’s a great job. It’s also apparently possible to outsource public appearances to other people without any hint of criticism.

Each day I work for the CIPD, championing better work and working lives for people.

In the evenings I mainly concern myself with the organisational dynamics of Santa’s operations and what that means for reindeer – the forgotten workers.

So next Christmas, as Santa’s sleigh draws near, spare some time to think about whoever has to look right up Comet’s tail. It’s dark up there.

Advent Hopes

Day 1 (Tuesday 1st December 2015)

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.

It is the first day of Advent. Welcome to the 2015 Advent Blogs Series. It is both a privilege and pleasure to host this annual event for a second year and I can promise you some wonderful blogs over the next few weeks. I appreciate that a few people found this year's theme of "Comet Tails and Coal Dust" challenging, but the thought and effort has paid off. New and experienced writers have interpreted the theme in a variety of ways. I hope you enjoy reading these wonderful posts; they were written for us as a seasonal gift and have become a tradition within a broad community. I always find the Advent Blogs a wonderful time for reflection, sharing, celebration and making new contacts - 2015 will be no exception.

The first post in this year's Series is written by my good friend and occasional work associate, the inspirational consultant artist, Simon Heath. As many of you are aware, due to Simon being a popular contributor on Twitter (his handle is @SimonHeath1 ) where he speaks openly about his past, Simon had a successful career within commerce - culminating in being Head of Operations for a number of significant financial services businesses - before taking advantage of redundancy to follow his heart and step into a new, more creative career. He founded Speech Bubble EQ in January 2013 and is now recognised as a leader in his field, providing pithy and witty illustrations for conferences, senior leadership and training events and the communication of crucial messages. He has the knack of appreciating the importance of what is being said by others, his commercial grounding helps, and is capable of turning thoughts and words into memorable and impactful images. Today he has done something different and used his creative talents to write a poem around the Advent Series theme (of Comets and Coal Dust) that encapsulates much of the festive excitement of children and families in the lead up to Christmas.

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Trailing through the winter sky

The comet spotted up on high,

Brought Shepherds out to gaze aloft

With toes and fingers firmly crossed

‘Twas Christmas, see.  And at that time,

People up their trees did climb,

To put on top the shining star

They’d seen across horizons far.

And children out, all bundled up

While parents steaming glasses cup

Faces turned towards the sight

Of stardust lighting up the night.

All Advent hopes dispel the fear

That in the night no one would hear

The jingle bells, the “Ho, ho, ho!”,

The crunch of footsteps in the snow.

At the Pole, the patient elves

Turned once more to fill the shelves,

Hoping that the job was done

As in the East, appeared the Sun.

The turning handle, stopping banter

And in the room comes striding, Santa!

Then by the sight all there were cheered

Of dabs of coal dust on his beard.

Thank you Simon, the countdown has begun....