Know what I mean? Here’s an example.

I find myself sat opposite a frosty fellow who had been told to see me by a senior colleague. This was a busy person, of course and what I was talking about was clearly out of his comfort zone. He hadn’t chosen to see me and made sure that I knew that without actually stating it.

I was getting absolutely no buy in. In that moment the rabbit hole opens up and I leap down it.

I have a sensitivity to rejection. Of course most of us do, but I am unusually sensitive – for reasons I can come back to another day.  Anyway, as I sit there knowing my idea is completely rejected I go into sell mode. I come from every angle to demonstrate that what I have would really help with development and retention. I am a skilled sales person, so the problem was not my technique but the fact he was just never going to buy it.

Because I am aware of my sensitivity, I also quickly become aware that I had dived down a rabbit hole. After a few minutes I was able to pull back and accept that I would have to find another way to bring my solution to that organisation.

Why do I call it a rabbit hole? Because everything goes into a sort of tunnel. where my complete focus is how I can convince this person not to reject my solution, which I see as personal rejection.

There are many kinds of rabbit hole. Here are a few for starters:

-Perfectionism

-Seeking certainty (leads to inertia)

-Over protective of an idea

-Taking too much responsibility because you feel you have to

-Over persistence carrying on with something or someone when everything tells

you it’s the wrong thing to do

-Going quiet in the group even when you have something to add

-Taking to much care for others because you feel you must

-Always chasing new opportunities

When you enter a space where all you can feel is a compulsion, then my friend you are in a rabbit hole, and playing to your sensitivities. If you are playing to your strengths, the energy is different, there can still be urgency but you always maintain your peripheral vision.

About me the author, the owner of talents and rabbit holes:

I work with organisations to improve performance and wellbeing. Working with teams and individuals to build trust, ownership and talent, ownership of a shared vision and trust in themselves, their talents and their rabbit holes.

#Emotional Intelligence #Leadership #confidence

Turning 60 is a milestone that brings with it a sense of freedom. For many of us reaching this age, it offers a period of profound transformation where the focus shifts from the external to the internal, from proving oneself to understanding oneself. It’s a time when the societal pressures that might have felt like a heavy burden begin to dissolve, leaving space for a deeper expression of who we are.

I have found one the most wonderful aspect of entering this decade is the freedom to claim all of my talents and dysfunctions with the diminishing constraints of worrying about the expectations of my environment. I have a sense that the days of navigating life based on my environments judgments or expectation are behind me. Instead, I find myself at a place and time where personal contentment and fulfilment takes precedence, where my desires and curiosity lead the way. This newfound freedom is just that freeing.

Perhaps the most liberating aspect of turning 60 is the ability to let go of the ego and the incessant need to prove oneself. There’s a profound peace that comes with understanding that our worth is not tied to our achievements or how we’re perceived by others. This realisation allows us to move through the world with a grace and ease that was perhaps elusive in our earlier years. It is possible to no longer crave validation; finding satisfaction in our ability to just be ourselves, embracing what is without judgement or comparisons.

Being able to make that shift brings significant shift in how we view others. As we learn to release judgment of ourselves, we naturally extend the same courtesy to those around us. This empathy and understanding comes from awareness and ownership of our own imperfections and the recognition that everyone is trying to navigate their own way in the world. In the words of Sydney Banks “everyone is doing the best they can with the thinking that looks real to them.” If we can live in that openness, we will foster a sense of community and connection that enriches our lives and the lives of those around us.

Moreover, in this my 60th year my desire to use the resources I have to make a difference in the world is greater than ever and I am grateful to be working with organisations that have a social purpose. My work is incredibly fulfilling, as I focus my wisdom to help others achieve their goals, helping communities without compromising their wellbeing, so their work is sustainable. I am aware I am privileged, with all the opportunities I have had and taken to learn and grow, so now reaching 60 I am able to embrace my opportunities and feel blessed to do so.

It is not that I never compare myself or feel elated when I am given some recognition, it is just that I don’t linger there or need it to feel positive about myself. I am writing this as a celebration and hope in so doing I am speaking to others that are also in a time of transition. Last weekend for the first time I delivered a wonderful training programme for coaches with a friend that is definitively more advanced in years than I, together we created something new. She is such an inspiration, and I am filled with excitement of the prospect of continuing to love what I do and make a difference in the world from a place of wonder, joy, and freedom for many more years to come.

#leadership #wisdom #freedom #authenticity #vulnerability

I was seven years old and watching my father. He was rolling on the floor shouting that he was dying. My mother was standing and watching. She had put a blanket on the floor, under him as he rolled in his excrement. I felt no pity. The only thought I remember was that I would never sink so low.

I was a 7-year-old from a poor family. But I had a sense of pride, a courageous heart, a wonderful mother and buckets of love from my grandmothers. My father had another side – he was amazingly creative; he could create such wonderful art and tell spell-binding stories. But most of the time he lived in fear, and he drank himself to bravery.

At the age of eleven, in my maths class my inspirational teacher asked me to come and show the rest of my class how to solve a maths problem. I went up to the blackboard. I was happy to show off how clever I was, and also to help everybody else in doing so.

When I sat back down the teacher asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. “I’m going to be an occupational therapist” I told her. She couldn’t hide the disappointment, and said, “Well if you change your mind, you would make an excellent maths teacher”. In the event, I became a little bit of both.

By that time the family had escaped my father. Looking back, I can see that I had already learned that creativity can be the most wonderful way to wellness. Maybe that’s why I’d had the idea of becoming an occupational therapist. When my father was drawing, he was at his best, and then I could be so proud to say, “Look at what my dad can do!”.

Here is what I have now learned. It is that when we create, our minds can become still. When we are focused on the subject or object we are bringing to life, in that stillness, we connect to our own innate well-being, our oneness and our godliness. Only between the active thoughts can we connect to our true selves.

It’s almost as though we wear super dark glasses all the time when the sun is out. For years we walk around in these dark glasses, and they become so much part of us that no longer perceive them as a separate thing. Our eyes adjust to the reality that the sun never shines brightly. We surround ourselves with expensive sun substitutes to help us see, while we continue to wear the dark glasses.

When we create, we are taking those glasses off. We can throw away the sun substitutes and see more clearly than ever seen before, in a beautiful perfect light. But then we go back to autopilot and put the dark glasses on. And again, we surround ourselves with sun substitutes to help us see better in the darkness, when all we really needed to do is take off the bloody glasses.

Does that resonate in some way?

My father’s substitutes were alcohol and gambling. The dark glasses blinded him not only from the suns light but from love. He could only experience love when the glasses were off. But as he grew more fearful his emotional capacity to see in the beautiful light of the sun became more and more diminished. So, he kept the glasses on and substituted love and sunlight with addiction.

His story is extreme, but I think we all have the capacity and even tendency to wear our own dark glasses, and seek our form of sun substitute. Over commitment to work, an addiction to winning, keeping ourselves small, holding deep love and connection at a distance ‑ the list is long.

When do you hold on tightly to your dark glasses? What are your sun substitutes? How connected to do feel to the essence of you? How much love do you feel for yourself? How brightly do you allow yourself to shine? Or do you choose to stay small?

When do you feel the true power of sunlight in your life, just imagine what would it take to walk in that sunlight every day. May I suggest that possibility is only a thought away, a click of your fingers, a tap of your heels?

As the quote from Jung points to it is only in experiencing something that you truly know it. I wonder how many of us truly know love or know how beautiful we are. I believe we can all see ourselves and those around us more fully with a shift in thought, a removal of the dark glasses. You may choose to see the substitutes for what they are and let them fall away in an instant. If you remove your dark glasses and can be brave enough to experience the full power of the sun, it will still be there, even when the clouds roll in..