In skating, you learn to click into that zone and focus not necessarily on what you're doing but if you're doing it well. (Dorothy Hamill)

 

Growing up, I loved to watch ice-skating, especially figure skating. I used to love watching the couples dance but I also used to find myself drawn to the individual figure skaters.

 

I loved how they would choose a piece of music, and then design and choreograph a routine to go with the beat and rhythm and energy of the music. Whether it was an upbeat pop song, a slower-paced ballad, or a piece of Classical music, they kept in tune with it, adjusting their speed, adding flourishes, including the basics, and adding a few spins, twists or jumps.

 

The double axel jumps* were always the steps that drew and held my attention, because one moment they would be skating, backwards, or forwards, and in the next, switch to the new move, and suddenly build into this fantastic spin - (the sit spin, the camel spin or the upright spin)** - and of course, the leaps, when they gather their energy and focus into that moment when they need to begin the jump, stay in that moment as they are flying through the air, whilst remembering that they still need to land on one skate, and carry on skating to continue with the routine because this is only a small part of the performance; the song isn't over yet.

 

What amazes me is the thought of how much time, effort and energy they needed to invest into this routine that in the final competition might be no more than 5 minutes long.

 

How long must the choreographer have spent in designing the dance, how long to design, make and embellish the skater’s outfit, and the hours and hours and hours of rehearsal in private to master it all. To master the basics, the steps, the combination of skating and timing of the music, never mind the order of the steps to create an elegant, cohesive whole that will be seen by the public and evaluated by the judges.

 

Even then, the skater needs to prepare themselves for the judges’ verdict; to be evaluated on their technique, and their performance. It's perfectly possible to get a good score in one aspect, less so in another, but overall it's the combination of all of those aspects that leads to the final score and ranking.

 

The skater needs to focus fully on herself, her skating, and her performance, regardless of the other competitors - she has to know she has given her all and done her absolute best.

 

And once the competition is over it's back to the drawing board to choose a new piece of music, design a new outfit, and rehearse a new routine, with the benefit and insight of the judges' feedback.

 

I've been learning to master my Dyspraxia*** for two years now, and in that time I have learnt and incorporated many strategies and continue to seek new and better ways of accomplishing tasks. It has involved many hours of practice, of repetition, and refinement, to improve myself, my work, my approach and my presentation. It sometimes feels as if what people see on the outside is a five-minute performance that is the result of months of rehearsal.

 

When I'm facing a challenging task, and it takes me longer than I would wish to understand and complete the task, it feels as if I am that lone figure skater who needs to build up all that energy to lift themselves into the air, to spin, and land successfully on that one skate. When I imagine myself as a figure skater, a challenging task is only a small part of the performance, and landing safely leads me into the rest of the routine to finish with a flourish.

 

The entire performance relies on a combination of my routine, my appearance and my technique. All three are vital to the final result and all need my attention and polish.

 

It also reminds me to complete the task – you can't stop a jump a mid-air.

 

Visualising myself as a figure skater reminds me that the performance is a combination of different steps which all come together to the music.  It allows me to see myself objectively as others do, and evaluate myself and my performance.

 

It helps to remind me that rehearsal is a part of the process, as is feedback, and as long as I focus on that, I can keep improving, and grow to become my best self and to strive to express that to others.

 

Lynn

 

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_skating_jumps

** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_skating_spins

*** Read more about my diagnosis and experience on my blog, Dyspraxic Pioneer

"Each of us, singly and with all the others, is answerable for creating joy through the way our lives unfold, here and now" (Arthur Egendorf)

Believing in hope - even if it has to start with us

The more people I meet the more I realise that whilst sometimes we may need others to be the light, if we each take care of ourselves, we will have light to give, and we can light our own candle to show others there is hope.*

We have an impact, whether that be positive or negative; what we say and do, has an effect on the people around us. My sister-in-law, for example, has a wonderful habit of asking serving staff for their first name whenever she goes out, and addresses them personally by name throughout the evening. At the end of the meal, she then writes a note on the back of the receipt when she pays, to say thank you and express her gratitude.

It's the little things that people do that make a difference. Sometimes all it takes is a smile or a kind word, and who doesn't have that to give?

If each of us tends to our little corner of the world, and our neighbours, we can make things better and give comfort, no matter how small that might seem.

If things are not going well for us, we can ask ourselves how we can help to be the light, and it may even be as simple as asking how we can help.

We can't know until we speak up, that there are more people out there who feel the same way about the world as we do. It's best not to wait for others to go first. I often choose to disclose first that I have been diagnosed with Dyspraxia and Attention Deficit Disorder**, and through this have given others the permission to come up to me and say they have been diagnosed, too, or know people who have been. It creates a safe space for them to be honest about their experiences. 

It reminds me that I am not alone, even if I am on my own, and that I cannot do it all alone. When I was organising my visit to Singapore and India in May, I needed colleagues in those offices to help me book meeting rooms and send out the initial invitations for the workshops; and when I was away, I remember being truly touched, when a colleague who helps me put up posters in our local office, volunteered to check the posters back home were up-to-date.

I'm not suggesting we pretend to be happy if we're not, or when things are tough; it's vital to take care of ourselves, and sometimes we'll be the one who needs the kind word, but if we're more willing to give it away, we can trust it will be there for us when we need it. We all go through difficult times, but they are made more bearable by knowing that we are not alone.

Over the years, I have collected a number of stones, each engraved with a different word, such as "peace", "courage", "happiness" and "hope". 

I carry the stones with me every day, so I always know I have hope, even if it's only the hope I carry with me in my pocket.

I have found that when I find myself telling someone about them, that's when I realise they need that stone more than I do in that moment, and I'll hand it over to them, whether that be hope, trust or even joy.

If we could think of our smiles and kind words in the same way, if we could imagine giving them away like the engraved stones, perhaps we might recognise their value, and how much weight they can carry. How they can serve to remind us that we are not alone, and that there *is* hope and love and peace in the world, and that if we turn our attention to these virtues, we can help to spread them out into the wider world in our own unique way.

Lynn

* "There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." Edith Wharton
** Read more about my experiences of being diagnosed and my experiences on my blog, "Dyspraxic Pioneer"

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself (Franklin D. Roosevelt)

Facing our fears

It's been said our fears are the monsters we believed were under the bed when we were children.* 

I don't remember being particularly scared of monsters under my bed as a child. Maybe that had something to do with sharing a room with my brother when we were very little. Being the one on the top bunk, the only thing that was under my bed back then was my younger brother in the lower bunk, and whilst we didn't always get on, I wouldn't call him a monster! 

Then when I was a little older and graduated to having my own room, my bed was one of those double mattress affairs, and there wasn't any space under the bed for a monster to live - unless it was a very small monster, or an only an inch high, and a one-inch high monster wouldn't have scared me because it would have been so much smaller than me. 

So I don't remember being scared of monsters under my bed. What I do remember was a sense of being not quite perfect, and always wanting to get things right. This was not a helpful approach to life, since, as I've said before 80% is distinction, and this belief that if I couldn't do something perfectly I didn't want to play meant I would sit on the sidelines and watch other people being messy and imperfect, and learning how to do the things I wanted to do, such as learn to swim or drive a car. Eventually I did learn to do both of these things, but looking back now I wonder how many other things I could have learned if I'd not spent so much time wanting to be perfect at them, and if I'd just started sooner. 

Perhaps this fear of not being good enough, of not being perfect was my monster under the bed. In the same way as I would sit on the sidelines and watch, over time I didn't just believe there was a monster under the bed, I didn't even want to step off and walk past the bed the way a child might cautiously tiptoe past to avoid being noticed by the monster. Ever find yourself trapped in the bathroom with a spider because you're waiting for it to move out of the way? And how long are we prepared to wait for that spider to move rather than take a deep breath, reach for a single moment of courage and step past it? 

And if we allow that fear of the monster under the bed to persist unchecked, without taking a deep breath, reaching for that moment of courage, and checking under the bed, we can find ourselves marooned on our island bed, stuck in our rooms, waiting and relying on other people to come to us. We can end up living our lives in just one place, a very limited space, and miss out on so much. 

Much better to check under the bed, verify for ourselves whether there even is a monster under the bed, and if there is something there, then we can decide what help we may need to handle it. And the only way to do that is to switch on the light, and look for our fears. It only takes a minute to check so we can decide what to do. If we decide we do need help, then we can call on someone to help us handle it; and if it turns out it was in our imagination all along, we can climb down off the bed and cross the floor, to open the door and step outside, into the world. 

The question is, what's really under the bed? 

Lynn 

* (unknown)

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” (Mahatma Ghandi)

What I learned about myself in India

When I was in India last month, I realised how little I really need, how so much stuff is really just a distraction from who I really am and what I really want.

When I was in India, I saw myself as I would like to be because everyone was so friendly and welcoming, and greeted me with a smile first. I felt appreciated, but more than that, I felt accepted for who I was, as I was.

Whilst I was there, I came to see I could be myself; I could be warm and open with everyone I met, and tell them my "good name" and where I was from. I felt I did not have to pretend to be anyone other than who I really was, and that who I was, in that moment, was enough. And because who I was was enough, I could see my best self revealed; someone who was interested in the wider world, in the people I met, in the beautiful architecture and vibrant sights and sounds of the country.

However long I spent with people was enough, and I could trust and follow my intuition to lead me to discover and experience a wonderfully rich country for myself.

I didn't need jewellery, material possessions, or very much else, and yet I was happy with what I had and what I experienced.

Having been back for a few weeks, I have come to realise that until now I had left a part of me in India; the authentic me that I discovered during my time there, and that the full impact this trip has had on my growth and development as a person, is only beginning to become clear to me now.

It's as if I left my spirit, or my soul, behind for a while, to give me time to return to my everyday life and to make space within myself for the person I am becoming, that person I could see so clearly during my time in India.

My hope is to retain that feeling and sense of my true identity for as long as possible.

Telling my story is just one of those ways of keeping that authentic self alive, and being true to my best self, that person I could, and want to be. 

Lynn

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes." (Marcel Proust)

Stepping back

It's a good idea to take a break from your life every now and again, to view it with fresh eyes, whether that be your home or your work or any other aspect of your life, and evaluate if you've set things up as best as they can be. 

I have discovered how easy it is to fall into routines that become habits, that aren't necessarily healthy or good for me. I try as much as possible to strive for continual improvement in every aspect of my life, and I find it a challenge. The Japanese call this Kaizen, and it has almost become a game to improve myself in this way. 

However, we aren't machines, and even computers need to be switched off and recharged occasionally! 

I had the opportunity to do this recently. Rather than try and squeeze everything into December, before Christmas, this time I tried something different, which meant I was away for the first two weeks in January, the greyest and bleakest days of the year, plus still the shortest days, probably my least favourite time of year after the bright lights of Christmas. 

I worked up until Christmas and then took a longer annual leave at the start of the year to top up my batteries, as well as my tan. This meant that when I left work at the end of last year, I had to be sure that I had planned ahead for my return, and to make provisions for colleagues and clients whilst I was away. 

I knew I had to set everything up so I could hit the ground running when I returned to work, in the same way as I would leave my flat as I wanted to find it. I wouldn't want to come back to find I'd forgotten to wash the dishes for 3 weeks! 

Whilst I was in Namibia, taking time out to enjoy the sunshine with family and friends, I discovered how much I like being able to stop and take a step back. To reflect, to write in my journal, to read, to listen to music, to watch the birds and the wildlife, to doze by the pool, and most of all, discovering how relaxing it is to colour in, which I think may be the perfect activity to do with friends - you can sit quietly listening, or you can join in the conversation because the only thing you need to concentrate on is staying within the lines. 

As a result, I found myself bringing this new-found knowledge back to the UK with me - I am recognising that I need a certain amount of time by myself, (especially in the winter months), and that I absolutely love allowing my inner child to choose which colours to combine to create vibrant images during my leisure time. 

I also discovered that some of the good habits I had set up before I left had stuck, so they were now as automatic as riding a bike, and I could feel they were right because they were effortless to do. I could recognise how much I have changed and the ways in which I have improved; whether or not other people had noticed, it's important that I recognise this for myself. 

I also discovered that if a new way of doing something hadn't stuck, and it still seemed like a good idea, it just meant I hadn't practised it enough until it became second-nature, so I made a conscious effort to do so on my return. 

I took a fresh look at my life and my work, and because I hadn't even looked at my computer for a month, I could see what needed tidying - the way you would when returning to your flat to realise that something is missing from your wall, and framing that picture you like. Having 3 new colleagues join our team has also helped - without even the need to say anything, new people always make you challenge yourself and ask yourself if you would teach them how to do what you're doing, or whether you would suggest something better. 

I'm glad I took the time out to step back from my every-day routine for a while, and I hope I can find other ways to review and refresh my life more often. 

What would you change if you could see your life through new eyes? 

Purlgirl