I give up !!

Lent begins – at least for the Western Christian churches – today. And it’s a time traditionally associated with giving things up. Originally a period of fasting it now more commonly takes the form of people – often with little or no Christian conviction – giving things up. And, more often than not these are food or drink related - alcohol, chocolate, elevenses and pudding usually come near the top of the list. Some people eat more simply than usual once or twice a week and put the  money thus saved to good - often charitable - use. A few people turn the whole idea on its head and take something up – usually designed to improve their health and fitness (running, jogging, swimming all come to mind). For many it’s almost as if it’s another chance to breathe life into their comatose New Year Resolutions.

For a few days or weeks,  the question ‘what are up giving up for Lent’  becomes part of our everyday social fabric and conversation –whether or not our faith, if we subscribe to one, requires us to observe the  season.

And so it was on Saturday, at the end of a two hour samba parade (the band of which I’m  a member had been delighting the crowds in Bognor at the International Clowns Parade). Asked what I was giving up for Lent and I somewhat flippantly replied that ‘I’m giving up giving up!’ And then I got to thinking what I could usefully give up that would instantly improve my/others quality of life. Here’s my list so far:

• ·         Not taking a lunch break
• ·         Hanging onto books I have no real intention or realistic prospect of ever (re) reading
• ·         Setting or accepting unrealistic deadlines
• ·         Watching a film to the end even though I’m not enjoying it
• ·         Not making time to walk by the sea – whatever the weather
• ·         Buying bottled water rather than taking my own

And I’m sure there’s more to come! So, what might you choose to give up that no longer serves (if, indeed it ever did, a useful purpose in your life?)

More from the Bathroom Fitter's Guide to NLP

When asked -  in recent days, -how I am, my initial response has been to say that I am ‘suffering from ABS (Absent Builder Syndrome)’. But I have recently amended it to say that I am (or, more properly, have been – since the wanderer hath returned) experiencing ABS.

The difference –signified by my choice of works – is important. ‘Suffering’ implies I am a victim, powerless and that I am experiencing negative effects (and, yes, it has been VERY cold in the bathroom these last few mornings without a radiator, and I’m missing having showers – but it will all come good in the end, and in having safe water quite literally on tap, I am luckier than many;  so such ‘suffering’ as there has been has been temporary and very, very small beer in the greater scheme of things; not even a as big as gnat bite on an elephant!)Using the word ‘suffering’  put me, in NLP, terms at ‘effect’. ‘Experiencing’ on the other hand is a much more neutral word,  implies some choice and puts me more ‘at cause’ – i.e. in the driving seat , at least as far as managing my response to a situation is concerned. And it takes far less energy, too J

The bathroom fitter's guide to NLP

I'm having my bathroom completely refitted at the moment. Most people's reaction when I tell them this is 'how exciting!' Those who know me really well, however, give me a look normally reserved for people who've experienced a significant personal tragedy, lay a sympathetic hand on my arm and ask, in a voice full of care and concern. 'So, tell me really, how are you coping?'

Having workmen (or women, for that matter) in my home is something I regard, from time to time, as a necessary evil. And which I normally put off for longer than is helpful. Several people (including my lovely bathroom fitter whom I chose because, of all the people who quoted for the job, he was the only one I felt would bring a calm, friendly, no problem insurmountable presence to the job) have asked why I have such a strong aversion to engaging tradespeople. And as I ran through a list of possible reasons (the noise, the disruption, the bad jokes told very loudly from atop ladders) none of which are things I'd choose to have around me  and all of which are even less appealing when much of the time I work from home, I knew that this wasn't it. There was something else. And as I was getting ready to work with a client this morning, and for the next onslaught of noise and disruption (steel bath destruction and removal today and floor renewal/repair) and thinking about the 'what is it you're pretending not to know the knowing of which would cause this problem to disappear' question that can be so powerful in coaching sessions, I realised what 'it' was. My first two major house projects (apart from refitting a very small kitchen which I did with a friend, aided by rather a lot of alcohol - and with surprisingly good results) were, in their different ways, a nightmare.

The first (central heating to a flat) saw my heating installer (I won't insult heating engineers by gracing him with that title) threatening to punch my downstairs neighbour who had the temerity to complain about the effect of the many leaks in the newly installed pipework that ran between my floor and his ceiling. It also involved me spending a lot of money with British Gas to sort things out when the first guy got fed up (he got fed up!?!) and left. The second (central heating to house) saw a pinprick of a leak cause thousands of pounds of damage within 3 days of the installation having been completed. I was away for the weekend and the poor guys who had fitted the system thought it would be a nice surprise, as they'd finished early, for me to come home to a warm house. It was a surprise all right. It was so hot and humid it was like walking into the rain forest not a terraced house in cobbled street on the edge of the Peak District!

So, I realised (at long last)that  I have some negative anchors here - and now that I know that I can put this behind me and look forward to having more work done on my house in future. I do still think I might arrange to be out when it gets very noisy though.....

Write your own obituary

My postbag last week included my annual college newsletter. As usual, I turned first to the rear section – which details appointments, publications and birth, marriages and deaths of past students and staff. These days, sadly, I am more likely to find a name I recognise among the deaths, than I am among marriages and births. And so it was this year; sandwiched somewhere between the names of several women who had long since passed their three score years and ten, and a handful of men and women who were not even a twinkle in their father’s eye when I graduated, was a name I recognised.



Not a friend (although we were listed as friends on Friends Reunited long before it was eclipsed by Facebook and other social networking sites) – but someone whom, even though she didn't complete her degree and left sometime during our first year, I remember well. She had a wonderful singing voice – I recall very well the first time I heard her sing (and, over 30 years later, what she sang!) and being amazed that such a rich and mature sound could come from someone my own age. Her obituary mentions this – and some, at least, of her other talents (she was, inter alia, a prolific and published author). But– and I don’t think this is just because she took her own life (though I acknowledge this as a contributory factor) – I was left with a profound sense that if she could rewrite parts of her life, she would.


Whether I’m right about this or not (and, actually, I’d love to be wrong), the important thing here is that while most of us don’t choose the time of our passing, we can and do choose what we’re remembered for, and by whom. And often those choices are made unconsciously. For many of us life, as John Lennon remarked, is what happens when we’re busy making other plans. And it need not be so. In suggesting, you ‘write your own obituary’ I’m not being morbid. Far from it. Consider it as a form of personal stocktaking – fast forward your life by several decades (at least!) and write what you’d like to read and hear people writing and saying about you after your death. Then consider how what you’re doing now may help this become your reality rather than just a dream. And, similarly, what changes you might wish to make to how you do things now.


Are, for example,


• You spending quality time with the people in whose hearts and minds you wish to be remembered with fondness?


• You spending your time making a living or making a life? Yes, there are economic realities – and it is good to test them from time to time to clarify what’s real and what’s imagined so that we can, if we consider it necessary and so choose, readjust our priorities


• your current diet, exercise and health habits likely to support a peaceful, dignified death (if that’s what you desire)?


One of the keys to making changes- whether in our personal lives or elsewhere – is to recognise the gap between where we are now and where we want to be. Writing you own obituary may help you do that.


Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards ~ Soren Kierkegaard

Happy New Year

I wonder if, like me, you’re  already beginning to tire of people asking ‘so, what New Year Resolutions have you made?’.  And when they talk about New Year Resolutions (NYRs) they do so in a sort of ‘capital letter voice’ to indicate that this is something Serious and Worthy of Consideration.

Well, I haven’t made any. I have though, made a decision. And that is not to ask anyone about their NYRs. Don’t get me wrong, I think resolutions – decisions to focus determinedly on and work to achieve specific goals can be great. And my latest newsletter shares some thoughts on how to maximise your chances of success when doing so. (If you don’t yet receive a copy automatically, let me know and I’ll happily add you to my mailing list)

But, for me, the most interesting thing right now is not what NYRs have you made – but what are your hopes and dreams for the year ahead. It’s only when you’ve got in touch with and explored that – and possibly been surprised by the result – that it makes sense to sharpen your focus. And, that way, any NYRs you do make are more likely to be linked to what you want rather than rooted in ‘should, ought and have to’s. And that seems to me to be an altogether more promising foundation for a truly Happy New year.

Seeing red

Lots to do this morning and posting here wasn't on the list.

But I was so taken by the glorious colour of the rhus tree that I can see from my study window that I just had to put finger to keyboard. The leaves are a glorious reddy-orange and, tossed about in this morning's breeze, remind me of cosy nights in by the fire. Normally, when we talk about 'seeing red' we use it as a metaphor for anger, frustration, and crossness. But for me, this morning, faced with an over long list of things to do, many of them in the 'dull but necessary' brigade, seeing red was a delight and a reminder of just how much there is to take delight in without having to venture very far afield or incur significant expenditure.

Unsure, as I was, how to spell 'rhus' ( was, it, I wondered, two 's's or one?) I did a quick Google search and found that this beautiful tree has sap which can, in some people, causes a nasty allergic reaction . I learned, too, that in some parts of the world it is regarded as a noxious weed and landowners are obliged to clear it.  

So it seems to be that the tree is a useful metaphor in itself. For how we process things through our filters to make sense of the world and the fact that we can, if we choose, change those filters and thus our view of the world.

And there's more (of course!). Most of the year the rhus is an unremarkable tree-bush that adds, for me, no visual - or other - appeal to my garden. And yet, as I was reminded this morning, that same tree has great beauty within it - just waiting for the chance to shine. Another metaphor, perhaps? I think so.

New Broom

The chimney sweep made his long awaited visit this morning.

I’d made the appointment some weeks ago. Having the chimney swept in readiness for winter had been on my ‘list of things to do’ for a while – and, when I finally got round to it, I found he was much in demand.  He tells me that there’s at least a three month waiting list now – suddenly people have ‘woken up’ to the fact that the nights are drawing in, there’s a cold snap in the air and that before very long the supermarkets and shops will be endeavouring to create a sense of seasonal bonhomie as they serenade us to the sounds of Bing singing about ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire’. Except, of course, for those poor souls who (like me last year) delayed too long and couldn’t find a sweep who was available before Christmas – any chestnut roasting will have to happen elsewhere.

Because I didntl have my chimney swept last year I had very few fires- no more than a handful at most, last winter. And probably not much more than that in the previous year.  What struck me, however, was just how much stuff had accumulated in the chimney – all unbeknown to me. And I wondered whether Mr Sweep might have been offering a metaphor about the value of living in the now, of paying attention, and to what can happen if we take our eye off the ball and , the reassurance, if any is needed,  that it’s always possible to get back on track. The key, it seems to me, is taking action. Be (at) cause you can.