Kept in the dark

Yesterday I realised one of the events on my 'want to do' list and had lunch at Dans Le Noir  in TOTAL darkness. Not the darkness that sighted people experience when they wake in the wee small hours and, as our eyes gradually readjust, we are able to make out shapes and discern movement. But total, unrelenting, pitch black darkness. 

It was an interesting experience and, as I'd hoped, I had lots of learning - about myself, about others, and about how we make sense of our own worlds and interpret them for others. I imagine it will be a source of material for several blog posts over the coming weeks and months.

One insight came early on when the blind waiter (all tables are assigned a named non -sighted 'Guide') handed me my drink - a large tomato juice in a tall tumbler. As I raised it to my mouth I had an unexpected and uncomfortable sensation - I poked myself in the eye with the straw that, unbeknown to me, had been placed in my drink (why do some places service grown-ups drink with straws?). Apparently, I wasn't the only person to have had that experience. When our Guide asked us how we'd enjoyed the experience our food etc at the end of the meal I mentioned that it would have been helpful to have been told about the straw.

On my way home, I found myself wondering why he hadn't mentioned the straw. It was a small and seemingly unimportant detail - and one which caused me some discomfort - albeit very minor. And I was perhaps more sensitive to that that I would normally have been as I had participated in a 'world class service' workshop for the food and beverage industry only the day before so I had a heightened sense of awareness of what makes for 'world class' service in this environment.

And, of course, I don't know what his reasons were - but it occurred to me that it might have been that

·         He didn't know it was there - and that made me wonder about how often do we accuse people of keeping using the dark when in reality they haven't, because they are equally in the dark themselves - it's just that we think they should have known and can't quite believe that they didn't. Or maybe it was that

·         He was so used to it being there, that he'd stooped seeing it. And that got me thinking about how many times might I have failed to communicate something that would have been helpful to someone,  not because I meant I to be unhelpful, but just because it had become so commonplace to me that it no longer seemed important or relevant. So, it was a useful reminder, to look at things through others' eyes- particularly if it's me that's introducing them to what is for them, an unfamiliar situation or environment. Or maybe

·         If someone had served him, a drink, he would have explored it by touch first - feeling his way round the  glass, noticing everything about it (including the straw) in his own way. So he may have assumed, without even realising that was what he was doing, that I would have discovered it for myself - in the normal process of events - before it became a potential difficulty. And that got me thinking about the importance of remembering that we experience and make sense of things according to our own models of the world - they are unique to us and how we operate - and sometimes we will need to give others more information than others need to help them feel comfortable and able to cope with a situation. Or we may need to give it to them in different ways.

Now, just in case any of you are thinking 'for heaven's sake, Helen, It was only a straw! No harm was done. And yet you seem to be making a really big deal of this.' You're right.

It was only a straw,

No harm was done.

And I am  making a really big deal of this learning about how we can unwittingly keep others in the dark and how, with just a little thought, and rather more attention, we can help ourselves- and others - make sense of things which may be far more fundamental  and important than a straw in a tomato juice.

Eeny meeny....

My article on how to choose the coach or therapist who's right for you is now available on line at EzineArticles. If you find it useful, do let me know. You're welcome  to add it to yourown website - and if you do so, please acknowledge my copyright/authorship and include a link back to my main site.

A useful lesson drummed into me

Some of you already know that for the last three and bit years I have played with a lively, entertaining samba band. Our weekly rehearsals are among the best and cheapest therapy available – just under two hours of trance – fabulous!

When I first saw Bloco on my home beach four summers ago I was blown away. And knew immediately which drum I’d want to play if I ever found a band like them to play in (I didn’t know it at the time, but they were a 100 mile round trip away down narrow bendy roads – not very trance like). With no real plan in mind I googled them and found they were hoping to start a branch a little closer to home . So I took action and signed up. Taking action, rather than simply making plans or thinking about taking action is, as you already know, key to realising your goals.....

I still remember my first ‘taster’ workshop. We were invited to choose an instrument and I made a beeline for the drum I’d identified as ‘mine’ a few months before on the beach. What I didn’t know then was that there are three sizes/pitches of the same drum. The one  I chose turns out to be the one which tends to have the most variation/most intricate rhythms and, of the three, is thought by many to be the most interesting to play.

And for the last three and a bit years that’s what I’ve done. And although I know that the other two similar drums also have some tricky stuff to play, I’ve tended to think it’s less interesting/tricky and  therefore (gulp, OK, I’ll say it) less important than what those of us on ‘my’ drum do.

Until a couple of rehearsals ago..

We were a few players short and I was ‘asked’ to move to play one of the other drums in my section – for the first time, and with no one alongside to copy. The guy who normally plays that drum also moved to an unfamiliar spot – and again with no-one beside him. We were each given a 90 second tutorial, lots of encouragement and off we went.

We stuck to simple tunes. And I learned masses. And not (and you know this already of course) just about drumming.

Until then I’d been conscious that the other 2 drums in my section more often than not provide the backbone to our tunes – so if (rarely, and they nevertheless do) they go wrong – it tends to be more likely that we go wrong (hmm, interesting that we rely on them rather than take responsibility for ourselves.... more about his another time). For the first time, however,  I really noticed and appreciated the fact  that most of the time they get it right – and in doing so, we are helped to get it right, too. So thank you, guys. And maybe (maybe ?!?!) there’s a wider lesson for me there in recognising when people ‘get it right’ rather than when they get it ‘wrong.’

The power of words

Last week, the samba band (Bloco Fogo) of which I am a member rehearsed outside County Hall rather than at our normal indoor rehearsal space. We treated it pretty much like a normal rehearsal – going through some of our familiar grooves (that’s ‘tunes’ to the unitiated) and learning a new one from scratch. Although the venue was a little outside of the town centre – and thus away from shops, cafes and bars which might have provided an audience, we soon attracted a small crowd of interested/bemused onlookers – dog walkers, commuters, couples and families out for an early evening stroll.


And as we rehearsed –and tried out additional moves to our existing pieces, and devised some to enhance our new piece – I noticed something very interesting. I felt much more relaxed and free to express myself and launch myself into the various choreographed moves that have begun to be a hallmark of our public performances than I normally do.

(pic shows us at Rochetser Castle on 27/7/10)

And I wondered why this was. And it didn’t take me very long at all to realise that it had to do with what I was wearing and what I was thinking about what I was wearing. As this was a rehearsal – an impromptu busk if you like – rather than a scheduled performance, we were in civvies. So the richness and diversity of our band could be seen in all its glory – and I felt free just to be me and enjoy the music, the occasion and my contribution to it. When we perform, we wear a very distinctive set of clothes which, although listed on our newsletters as ‘costume’ – is effectively a uniform. At least, I recognised, that’s how I‘ve come to think of it – because, to a greater or lesser extent it is policed – with admonitions for undone top buttons and non-standard accessories, and exhortations (which a bit of me is waiting to become more than that) to buy colour co-ordinated footwear. And, for me, the word ‘uniform’ is constraining – and I recognised that this has been reflected in how I’ve approached the choreography when out performing – I do it, but without really putting myself into it because in uniform I lose that sense of self. But if I reframe it and begin to think of it as a costume, then that’s a whole new ballgame. And much more fun.

So, a useful reminder to self to choose my words – and thoughts -carefully. And that by changing them I can change my feelings for the better. And of course, anything I can do.....

Mind your langauge

Nearly everyone who’s been on even the most basic communication course will tell you, if asked, that words only account for 7% in any communication (too see what the other elements are and how they interrelate, click here)

And possibly because of that, we often don’t pay enough attention to words and their impact.

I was talking with a colleague about this recently and remarked how communication skills trainers used to (maybe some still do?) advocate paraphrasing what someone had said so that they’d know that you’d been paying attention and understood. More recently, and particularly those of us schooled in NLP and/or Clean Language, we have moved away from this and use people’s own words back to them. To illustrate, I asked her to imagine I’d just told her I was cross about something and that the conversation that followed had gone thus:

Helen: I’m really cross about that

Colleague: so, you’re feeling angry about that

Helen: no, I’m cross about it

Colleague: so, what is it that’s making you so angry?

Helen: I’m not angry, I’m cross

Colleague: so you’re quite upset about this

Helen (getting angry and upset) too right I am now!

And then to compare it with this approach

Helen: I’m really cross about that

Colleague: Tell me a bit more about what it’s like being really cross about that

The first closes the conversation down because it( erroneously in my case) equates crossness with anger and upset. It assumes that we share the same understanding of the emotion. The second, opens up new possibilities and can help deepen understanding by exploring further and seeking clarification without muddying the waters by substituting any potentially value laden nouns or adjectives.

Another case of less being more.

Being me

Being me, I had- as I usually do – a sense of what I wanted my next blog article to be about and I went online to look for a pithy quote or two to help illustrate the point(s) I wanted to make. And this quote – which wasn't about what I had consciously set out to write about – just leapt out at me.

It’s by Virginia Satir who, as some of you will know, is one of the people Grinder and Bandler modelled when they developed NLP.

‘nuff said!

I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it - I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By doing so I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects of myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know – but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.

Appreciating what’s been there all along

On holiday last month I visited a number of gardens and took, as I always do at this time of year, great delight in the roses and herbaceous borders. The scent of roses and lavender, in particular, always remind me of happy childhood summers with my grandmother.

This year, however, as well as my usual 'must sees’ while visiting gardens, I’ve also taken great interest and delight in visiting kitchen/vegetable gardens – pleased with how much I can now recognise just from the leaves, and noticing different planting options and how, as well as being productive, several kitchen gardens have also been designed to make them visually appealing.

I’m sure these gardens have had kitchen gardens for as long as I’ve been visiting them – I’ve just not noticed them before. Now (and regular readers and those of you who’ve kept up with my various ‘veg talk’ entries will readily understand why) I think they’re every bit as lovely as the roses and borders.

So, what lovely things have been there for you all along that you’ve not been seeing? And how much richer are you now that you do?

One does not see anything until one sees its beauty
~ Oscar Wilde