Tag: holidays

Asleep while the world wakes up

Asleep while the world wakes up

A few quick looks showed no emails of any note over the holiday although a couple of my team were working on urgent matters  – they’ll get their pay back later when we’re at the grindstone!

As each day passed I felt the mind relax, initially almost imperceptibly, then quite noticeably. I felt stronger thoughts about what’s important to me. Really important. The things that bring true contentment, satisfaction, or happiness, or whatever word works for you. Mine is freedom.

The world hadn’t stopped of course. A political assassination, a royal couple who declared that wealth and privilege don’t necessarily bring meaning, and dreadful fires, the signs of which we saw in the Central Otago sky.

This morning the world seemed to have woken up, although I’m still on holiday – emails, lots of them –  calls, and texts. On my walk this morning, the elders were out and about for some reason- off to the morning movies by the look of it – walking slowly like my mind, but not like my feet, I’m going faster than ever. Couriers were at it and the traffic and trains seemed back to normal service.

If you’re like me and still asleep while the world is waking up around you, hang in there for the most important things: exercise, sort your financial goals out, and do things that give you meaning. Maybe it’s obvious.

Over the holidays I re-read Scott Pape’s The Barefoot Investor. Reader warning! – he doesn’t like the big banks – but regardless of whether that works, the messages on financial freedom and bringing meaning to your life are extraordinary for a finance book. I also read Bill Bryson’s “The Body:  A guide for Occupants” – did you know that there’s no scientific evidence of harmful effects of MSG? And I walked. Quite a bit actually.  Then I saw this video this morning about the impacts of exercise on the brain.

So, a holiday about the body, financials and doing what brings meaning. My path to freedom.

Stephen

The banner photograph is one I took from Chard Farm Winery in Gibbston Valley, Queenstown, showing the Australian Bushfire sky.

Both books were audio books. Can you say you read them? I have but I wonder if that’s right.

 

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Humid as for Christmas

Even with a cool breeze running through the house it’s well over 80% humidity according to the dial in the hallway.  If you’re a parent of a young child you’d be sweating too, if you haven’t done the business by now and got a suitable collection of presents under the tree. It’s a festival for mid-winter for most of the world but we’re here in the most humid time of the year, with the remnants of Tropical Cyclone Evan apparently in our midst.

One of the Franklin Road houses has a big ribbon around it with words that make you look twice.  Today is the presentA colleague at work commented that they “couldn’t wait for Christmas”.  When I enquired what that was about, I was told it was the current pressures.  “Now is as good as it ever gets” was my reaction.  It always is.

Enjoying the present is very much part of Christmas, whether that be the wrapped sort or the real sort. Even for a cynic who looks forward to the end of the actual day so they can start enjoying a holiday, here’s an opportunity to really take stock of the present. Sweating it out with a hot roast here in Auckland can be tough, but don’t worry, those relatives won’t be here for long! Always waiting for the future is a trap. The present is our gift to ourselves.

Merry Christmas.

Stephen

Grandma’s Clock Part Two

Collecting the clock from after its refurbishment before Christmas the Clockmaker declared it “fully wound, you should rewind it every week”. The clock has three wind mechanisms – the clock, the hourly signals and the fifteen minute chimes. I don’t usually have the latter two wound, preferring not to be woken every fifteen minutes. Somehow Grandma could sleep through it though!

So I’ve been removing the weight, the thing that keeps the “tick tock” going, a lovely soothing sound, during the evening. Sometimes I’m too busy or don’t remember to put the weight back in so it’s taking quite a few weeks to wind down the offending chimes.

It’s a long weekend for the top half of the North Island and another one for the whole country next week, thanks to Waitangi Day being on the Monday. Having been back at work for two weeks there’s a lingering sense of holding on to the holidays with two long weekends in a row. And hoping that we might get more than a few summer days in a row!

Leadership is always on show – I’ve blogged about that many times. You know, if you run into a leader you admire in the weekend, will you find the same person you know or know of if it’s a public leader? You should do I reckon. If they’re an authentic leader.

But leadership is also about taking the weight off when you can and when you need to. Some people like Grandma never seemed to need to – she was a hardworking woman who was doing the accounts for a local business well into her seventies – and later, yes later, Patron of the local Bridge club.

I’m nursing some soreness which is meaning a bit of a stand-down from long runs at the moment, so that combined with the long weekends means taking the weight off for a bit. Even though it’s the start of the year, it’s still a good time to build resilience. In fact it’s always a good time to build resilience so take the weight off when you can, whatever time of the year it is.

Maybe just overnight, like the clock!

You’ll be a better leader for it.

Stephen

True Colours

My friends from Melbourne have gone, leaving as they always do, a selection of olives, cheeses, sun dried tomatoes, cold meats and other delectable items which I’ve turned into a colourful, tasty and nutritious meal to suit me right now.  It’s a rainy evening, this Equinox, and I’m cosy after a 26km run and shower. Comfortable.

This boy unknown to me at the Grey Lynn Festival in November seemed very proud of his new colours!

Speaking of running, we had two marathon Seinfeld sessions and I’m continuing tonight solo. Jerry and Kramer have just run into someone who called Jerry a phoney five years ago. “Is Jerry still mad at me for the phoney comment?”. “Oh no” said Kramer “it’s water near a bridge!”.  “Maybe I’ll see you in another five years”, said Jerry.

At the risk of showing your true colours sometimes you feel the need to say something that has the potential to cause injury. In your own language, the truth might hurt. In the recipient’s eyes, you’re showing unpleasant, but true colours.

Last week I ran a great workshop on story telling (well I thought is was great anyway!). As you might expect I started with a story. The story started with the events of 22 February 2011 with my son Thomas and Dad in Christchurch. And somehow I went to a classic photograph of my parents in 1952 in Queen Street, taken by a roving street photographer and restored by me for their 55th wedding anniversary (actually the credit for the restoration goes to my talented former assistant Ivana Dimovski). The photograph stirs deep thoughts in me, of a young couple in love and makes me reflect back over the 48 years or so that my DNA has been part of that union. And because it means that much I like to be clear.  So in the weekend I had a ‘showing my true colours’  moment, because something challenged my values that I didn’t think had been properly dealt with.

So this blog is written I admit with a slightly bruised feeling – I’m the one that’s done the bruising – and I don’t feel flash for doing it. Funny how you can bruise yourself when showing your true colours. And I forgot the power of the story for a moment – I did the telling bit, but not the story with all it’s grit, love, rights, wrongs and meaning. And without doubt I made somethings that were actually good, not good, to justify my sense of wrong.

The story of life is gritty and true colour moments come and go.  With those that really matter they are building blocks to greater meaning. Nice words, probably true, but I need to tell myself, easy fella, make sure I don’t do more harm than good in my truth moments. And remind myself that the buttons that get pushed – mine is usually around transparency when the water is still near the bridge – are my buttons, not everyone elses.

And the couple in the photograph in 1952 are just the best parents you could ever ask for and if you don’t know that about someone special in your life, maybe you’re afraid of the true colour moment, maybe you never recovered from a true colour moment, maybe the water is near the bridge and you haven’t had the courage to let it flow. Whatever the reason don’t wait for the next Equinox to realise that it’s time to sort it. And don’t save up some crap until the next Equinox either.

I recently wrote about a cousins barbecue at the memory-filled Stanmore Bay where most of us there shared some DNA.  But remember, your DNA only lasts for so long.

Stephen