Tag: Personal Development

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

Letting go to grow

It felt hard when I got home. We had celebrated my son Thomas’ 21st at Iguacu in Parnell. A lovely evening which included some healing. I wrote quite a lot in a journal in the 90s and had a collection of memorabilia from home and school that captured the moment. It amazed me how much you forget. So if your kids say something like “When you die and come back as another person do you remember who you were?” then write it down. It’ll be worth it. And it was.

Putting together an album of photographs covering 21 years – and really only snippets which is why I called it “The unauthorised and completely random photo album to Thomas from Dad” – I went though the journals, the photographs and the large container of memorabilia. What it came down to were 30 pages. It took a bit of time, but then it felt thin and not worthy of such a fine young man. But it was a representation of 21 very special years of growing up.

I’ve regarded Thomas as grown up for quite some time but when I got home after the dinner it suddenly hit me: now it’s real, I’ve given him all I can to him as a young person. I consoled myself that I can give him (I hope) plenty man-to-man.

Such an empathetic, energetic and optimistic person is a rare find, and Thomas is one.

I’m still slightly sad, not sure why, but I’ve let go in a way I hadn’t expected to feel on Saturday.

Time to grow. For us both.

Stephen

Say it now

We went to a friend’s mum’s funeral this week. We shared some of the pain of the illness over the last year and learned how close mother and daughter were. At the funeral our friend spoke of the special relationship between her and her mother: how there was never a harsh word, they were best friends and Mum was always there for her, whenever.

I know people who, after their parents have died, talk of the things that they wanted to say.

Funerals make me reflective. No good waiting for the important conversations I was thinking. In fact I don’t mind saying I haven’t waited, but I count myself fortunate to have the tools and parents who engage. Doesn’t mean we agree on everything but we understand and respect. And feel we can talk about whatever we need to talk about.

And our friend clearly had the relationship with her mother that allowed that to occur.

No use waiting until you’re at the funeral home, either in the box or in the pews. Say it now. It’s never too late and you’ll probably have lots of good things to say.

Stephen

Letting go to make it stronger

My son Tim has just turned 18, like one minute ago. So I went downstairs and wished him “Happy Birthday” and a big man kiss on the cheek. He’s still young in many respects and lovely with it. When he went to bed he said “I’m just going to play on the computer for a bit ok?”.  I said that was okay, but only until midnight, at which time it will be your choice. We laughed.

It’s been a really big year – he’s grown from boy to man, nearly done with school, worked at a cattery and now accepted into Unitec. It was a proud Dad that wrote on his card this evening.

And you know what, with all that he’s happier than ever. You can feel the hope, anticipation and satisfaction of achieving what seemed like the impossible even only a year ago. And there will be many more challenges, and I hope there will be. That’s how we grow and remain happy.

I let go a little bit in the early hours of this morning. And he grew a little more for it. He’s stronger and we’re stronger.

Dad