Archive for April, 2010

April 28, 2010

Is it a good fit?

With three days remaining until the Rotorua Marathon all the anxieties and sore bits of my body suddenly appear as if by design, in that last week when very little running is actually done, prior to the big day.  The best thing to do in the last week is, well, not much at all. Turn the legs over a couple of times for 30 or 40 minutes my coach and running colleagues all confirm.

Someone told me recently that the paradox of authentic leadership – being yourself and being there for others – can actually be more demanding than the command and control manager.  It seems that authenticity is for me, a place I’m in my groove and it’s not that hard.  But the demanding bit can sometimes be being there for everyone else.  In fact, the whole scenario is a bit of a paradox isn’t it:  I’m authentic, but I need to be there for you, even if that’s not me at that moment. More energy is exerted by the authentic leader because he or she genuinely walks in others shoes to nuture, grow and develop them.

Leadership is not for everyone and everyone is not fit for leadership.  But if you’re going to do it, I reckon you better get yourself resilient to look after your team and supporters by being physically fit. For me that’s running (did you guess?!) and some days, like today when I went for that last 30 minute run, it not only formed part of an overall training regime, it gave me the headspace to sort out a few things and come back refreshed.  Ask my PA Raewyn.  She’ll confirm it I’m sure!

We have a special resilience session on our AUTCIL Authentic Leadership Course – and it’s got a special new component on this upcoming course (can’t say or it would spoil the surprise). It’s important stuff for authentic leaders.

As leaders you’re got to be fit, otherwise it won’t be a good fit.

As for Saturday, can’t wait.


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April 14, 2010

Thanks Uncle George, I remember Daisy

I last stayed with Uncle George and Aunty Joan about 40 years ago. They were dairy farmers. I think that they had about 150 cows and the images of the milking shed at 5.00 am have stayed with me since then. I see Uncle George and his cows when I pass a dairy farm even now. The warm unprocessed milk with porridge at 7 or 8. The implement shed.  The raging bull that we chased on the other side of the fence. Driving for the first time as he put the hay out, across the paddock with the accelerator on the Bedford truck stuck on what felt like breakneck speed. Rapidly (to my eyes!) approaching a narrow bridge between paddocks. The big arm leaning in to check the steering  You’re fine, just keep it dead ahead. Dead I thought, yes, if the bridge doesn’t widen up real soon!

Running into Mum and Dad in Farmers on a trip to the city. I need to go to the loo. Uncle George corrected you mean lavatory. Such responsibility to my care, even in the face of my parents! Funny how at the tender age of 5 I could sense my parents discomfort.

He died this week, aged 96. He had strong beliefs that he will join Aunty Joan. And probably Daisy. One of those 150 cows he knew by name. The only name I remember, but he had them all off-pat as they walked to the dairy. Remarkable.

He let me learn by trusting me and letting me have a go. Thanks Uncle George.

Stephen

April 12, 2010

Fire my spirit

So goes the last line of the simple song 75 men and young men at the Essentially Men Pathways to Manhood gathering sang together as we waited to be met by mothers and family yesterday. Sitting here right now there is so much to reflect on that has truly fired the spirit of my son Tim and me too.

This was a gritty, hard, challenging week with men. Great men who shared, endorsed, inspired and challenged us all. Never have I felt so proud and so sad all at once. It took a few days but when Tim found his voice, man, did we hear it. A school life of bullying and being picked on because he wears glasses, because he doesn’t see as well as others, because of this, that and it didn’t matter what. Any bloody excuse will do. Bullying turned to a stone-like resistance built out of fear of failure. Adults then embark ed on their own special form of bullying - bludgeoning into submission,  challenging in his face: What is it Tim? Is it about you only? What is your problem?.

In your 17 years Tim you have faced challenges that few can understand, but I tell you Tim, and you know this, 75 men who love and admire you know.  And they were there for you and are there now for you. When they said sorry on behalf of all the boys and men who have bullied you, they meant it. You stand tall now.  You have greater strength than all of those bullies put together. The boy is gone. You are a young man.  You want more one-on-one with me.  You will have it. You fire my spirit more than you can imagine. I love you.

And let’s reflect on what the men said about you: Strong, a great conservationist who extends the topic, funny, you want to please, courageous, cool to hang out with, a sensational smile, resilient, independent and they said you should cherish your ability to think outside the norm. I could go on and on how they affirmed you.

They want you back next year to help out. And let’s not forget the Golden Pisspot award you won for the the Young Pathways Man (you better explain to the women where pisspot comes from!).

This journey gave me a deep reflective space to get my own life in balance. Thanks to all the men at the gathering. You are special and formed to deliver one of life’s crucibles for me.

All the elements are with you Tim. Stand tall and proud. The men all stand with you. Thank you for taking me.

Earth my body, water my blood, air my breath, fire my spirit.

Stephen

April 5, 2010

Lighting a torch

Tim and I went shopping this weekend in preparation for our 6 days camping on the Essentially Men father/son retreat. We bought polyprop tops, camping lights, a new pocket knife (as instructed) for Tim and torches.

My good friend Nigel phoned from Christchurch this afternoon to suggest that one of the most valuable pieces of equipment we could bring was a head lamp: “when it’s dark on camp it’s dark, so you can do whatever you want with a torch strapped to your head”.

This retreat has been a long-time coming and Tim has been very brave in agreeing to go into the unknown with me and a group of other guys.

I’m excited and apprehensive. My hope this week is that Tim sees the way forward from boy to young man. It’ll be big for me too I’m sure.

We’ve got those head lamps ready.

See you in a week.

Stephen

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