Thats ma boy!!!
Sunday, 17 July 2011
COACH TRIP
Here's how you tell if your coach is any good.
Ask him / her if they are in the change business.
If they answer yes, then you know you are in the presence of a numbskull, liar or both.
Coaching is in the awareness business. Nothing more.
Coaching can produce awareness. It cannot produce change. That is in the hands of the client, fate, karma, chance, you name it.
Worse, though, if a coach is aiming at change he or she will always miss it, since the paradox of personal change is that pressure towards it very rarely produces it. Full acceptance and understanding, on the other hand, producing awareness, empowers the client to do whatever changing they are going to do, on their own initiative.
Ask him / her if they are in the change business.
If they answer yes, then you know you are in the presence of a numbskull, liar or both.
Coaching is in the awareness business. Nothing more.
Coaching can produce awareness. It cannot produce change. That is in the hands of the client, fate, karma, chance, you name it.
Worse, though, if a coach is aiming at change he or she will always miss it, since the paradox of personal change is that pressure towards it very rarely produces it. Full acceptance and understanding, on the other hand, producing awareness, empowers the client to do whatever changing they are going to do, on their own initiative.
Saturday, 16 July 2011
A CLIENT CALL
CLIENT: I have a decision to make. I want your view.
ME: OK what's the decision?
CLIENT: I've been offered two jobs. One is full time in England. It pays £40,000 more than the second. The second is in Paris. It pays as I said less. But it's only four days a week. I can't decide which to take.
ME: You've already decided.
CLIENT: Have I?
ME: Oh yes. If the English job was on the terms and conditions of the Parisian job there would be no contest. You'd take the Parisian job. You've already decided that, otherwise we wouldn't be having this discussion. Living and working in Paris is more attractive to you. Why not? All you need to ask yourself is if you prefer that experience enough to offset the £40000.
CLIENT: I do.
ME: I thought so.
CLIENT: Why has no one else looked at it in this way?
ME: I don't know.
ME: OK what's the decision?
CLIENT: I've been offered two jobs. One is full time in England. It pays £40,000 more than the second. The second is in Paris. It pays as I said less. But it's only four days a week. I can't decide which to take.
ME: You've already decided.
CLIENT: Have I?
ME: Oh yes. If the English job was on the terms and conditions of the Parisian job there would be no contest. You'd take the Parisian job. You've already decided that, otherwise we wouldn't be having this discussion. Living and working in Paris is more attractive to you. Why not? All you need to ask yourself is if you prefer that experience enough to offset the £40000.
CLIENT: I do.
ME: I thought so.
CLIENT: Why has no one else looked at it in this way?
ME: I don't know.
OF ENGAGEMENT CULTURES
I find myself pondering command and control cultures vs. engagement cultures for service organizations.
Here are some recently written thoughts.
Ask yourself this simple question.
If someone sits and talks at me with no regard for my input to the conversation, what do I think of them and how will it affect my cooperation with them?
Answering this alone will tell you much about the value of engagement.
When you engage:
You develop understanding
You build trust
You generate ideas
You encourage imagination and innovation
You develop a shared vision
You promote ingenuity
You head towards agreement
You spot and solve problems
You capture people’s hearts as well as their minds
You get the engagement of others
In short, you gain COMMITMENT.
When you use command and control, rather than engagement:
You insist only on your own understanding, ignoring that of others
You isolate your own view and position
You erode trust
You miss potentially valuable ideas
You discourage imagination and innovation
You impose your own vision
You fail to inspire ingenuity
You head towards division
You ignore potential problems and inhibit problem solving
You lose emotional engagement
In short, you gain COMPLIANCE
Here are some recently written thoughts.
Ask yourself this simple question.
If someone sits and talks at me with no regard for my input to the conversation, what do I think of them and how will it affect my cooperation with them?
Answering this alone will tell you much about the value of engagement.
When you engage:
You develop understanding
You build trust
You generate ideas
You encourage imagination and innovation
You develop a shared vision
You promote ingenuity
You head towards agreement
You spot and solve problems
You capture people’s hearts as well as their minds
You get the engagement of others
In short, you gain COMMITMENT.
When you use command and control, rather than engagement:
You insist only on your own understanding, ignoring that of others
You isolate your own view and position
You erode trust
You miss potentially valuable ideas
You discourage imagination and innovation
You impose your own vision
You fail to inspire ingenuity
You head towards division
You ignore potential problems and inhibit problem solving
You lose emotional engagement
In short, you gain COMPLIANCE
Monday, 27 June 2011
HOT AND BOTHERED
When I studied meteorology I learned all about the warm sector of an advancing depression. Unfortunately, that awareness has not made me immune from its effects.
It’s the pressure cooker, where everyone including me gets ratty.
It is hot. It is unbearably hot. Everything is too hot. Then it is humid too.
The cloud hangs heavy, sealing in all the heat. I can’t even bear anyone sitting next to me, as their body heat seems to radiate almost visibly.
On top of that the phone / internet wifi router thingy / phone filter thingy has packed in and we can only either have internet or phone, not both.
Bah.
BAH.
BARGHHHHH.
Not in a good mood.
It’s the pressure cooker, where everyone including me gets ratty.
It is hot. It is unbearably hot. Everything is too hot. Then it is humid too.
The cloud hangs heavy, sealing in all the heat. I can’t even bear anyone sitting next to me, as their body heat seems to radiate almost visibly.
On top of that the phone / internet wifi router thingy / phone filter thingy has packed in and we can only either have internet or phone, not both.
Bah.
BAH.
BARGHHHHH.
Not in a good mood.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
TAKING THE MICK
I've been trying to buy a yacht. Let's put it into context though, I'm not looking at anything to rival Roman Abramovitch; just a tiny sailboat.
It is proving surprisingly difficult to find any kind of quality at the restricted budget I am prepared to pay. In search of said elusive value, my youngest son, Jed, my nephew Matt and I went down to Gosport on a maritime wild goose chase. Matt amused us greatly as we arrived at the marina, by producing as his kit bag an Antler suitcase, vintage 1963. "Hey up," I said, "Miss Marples has arrived!"
The boat which promised to be "a nice, well cared for example" turned out to be something that Grimebusters would have paid to have a go at. A cross between a shed and an ashtray, with a couple of sails up top. More importantly, virtually everything on it needed either fixing or replacing. Truthfully, I could have gone home again as soon as I clapped eyes on her on the pontoon, but the boys had come for a sail and I did not want to disappoint. So, after a lengthy coughing and spluttering from the engine, and an even lengthier coughing and spluttering from the owner, we got under way.
Just out of Portsmouth Harbour, one of the supposedly salty owners was laid low puking and remained so whilst we flew westward. As his name was Mick, this provoked all the predictable Cockney rhyming slang gags. Then the engine failed to start twice - once rather spectacularly as we entered the very busy small boat channel back into Portsmouth Harbour. Won't be buying that one! Still, we had a nice sail down the Solent in her, and around the 250m exclusion zone which surrounds the truly awesome American aircraft carrier which was anchored mid Solent, on its way to bomb the fuck out of Mr Ghadaffi.
Jed proved once again that he is a natural helmsman. Matt wandered slightly in a Miss Marples style investigation of the depths, but through characteristic perseverance, came good. Our heartfelt solicitations after the green looking owner lasted only as far as the car park. After that, the imitations of heaving began in earnest.
Pass the bucket.
Miiiiiiiick!
It is proving surprisingly difficult to find any kind of quality at the restricted budget I am prepared to pay. In search of said elusive value, my youngest son, Jed, my nephew Matt and I went down to Gosport on a maritime wild goose chase. Matt amused us greatly as we arrived at the marina, by producing as his kit bag an Antler suitcase, vintage 1963. "Hey up," I said, "Miss Marples has arrived!"
The boat which promised to be "a nice, well cared for example" turned out to be something that Grimebusters would have paid to have a go at. A cross between a shed and an ashtray, with a couple of sails up top. More importantly, virtually everything on it needed either fixing or replacing. Truthfully, I could have gone home again as soon as I clapped eyes on her on the pontoon, but the boys had come for a sail and I did not want to disappoint. So, after a lengthy coughing and spluttering from the engine, and an even lengthier coughing and spluttering from the owner, we got under way.
Just out of Portsmouth Harbour, one of the supposedly salty owners was laid low puking and remained so whilst we flew westward. As his name was Mick, this provoked all the predictable Cockney rhyming slang gags. Then the engine failed to start twice - once rather spectacularly as we entered the very busy small boat channel back into Portsmouth Harbour. Won't be buying that one! Still, we had a nice sail down the Solent in her, and around the 250m exclusion zone which surrounds the truly awesome American aircraft carrier which was anchored mid Solent, on its way to bomb the fuck out of Mr Ghadaffi.
Jed proved once again that he is a natural helmsman. Matt wandered slightly in a Miss Marples style investigation of the depths, but through characteristic perseverance, came good. Our heartfelt solicitations after the green looking owner lasted only as far as the car park. After that, the imitations of heaving began in earnest.
Pass the bucket.
Miiiiiiiick!
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
RECENT ORDERS
- Graffiti World
- Manon des Sources
- 100 Artist's manifestos
- Luftwaffe Squadrons 1939 - 1945 (hilariously I actually received The Robbie Burns Songbook - which has some surprisingly raunchy numbers)
- Hannah Montana The Movie
- The East Coast Pilot
- Historias Minimas (highly recommended)
- Appetite
- Larousse
- Ringspun shorts
- Reeds Almanac 2011
- More shorts
- Aluminium fly screen (a life changer)
- Magnifying glass
- Gypsy Boy (not recommended)
- Double pinion hand drill (be glad of that when the electricity runs out)
- Peace - Richard Bausch (independently verified as brilliant)
- The West Wing (too revved up for me)
- Generation Kill (recommended)
- Troubleshooting Marine Diesel Engines
- The English Hymnal- full music and words edition
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
CLOAKS 2
I wish nothing of the sea
I have seen the edge of the sea and it scared me
I know of a tranquil pond
Still, bright and clean
Black water all around now
© CT
I have seen the edge of the sea and it scared me
I know of a tranquil pond
Still, bright and clean
Black water all around now
© CT
CLOAKS
You once had one of many colours
And you had dreams.
Though agriculture wasn't your bag
You looked deep futurewise
Beyond the bends in the river,
The eels, the slimy things,
The mud left by the tide,
And out into a predictive sea.
Now I don't know of your oracular powers.
Your cloak has changed -
An invisibility,
And perhaps this means the powers are gone,
Or perhaps the greater power is in flow,
Blending with the river's changing hues
Going with the tide,
Ebbing, flowing.
And you had dreams.
Though agriculture wasn't your bag
You looked deep futurewise
Beyond the bends in the river,
The eels, the slimy things,
The mud left by the tide,
And out into a predictive sea.
Now I don't know of your oracular powers.
Your cloak has changed -
An invisibility,
And perhaps this means the powers are gone,
Or perhaps the greater power is in flow,
Blending with the river's changing hues
Going with the tide,
Ebbing, flowing.
Friday, 17 June 2011
IMMORTAL, INVISIBLE
Yesterday I did something I've never done before.
Yes. I played a harmonium.
My friend and I had gone on a cycle ride, and I said, "I'd like to visit that church."
We did.
It was a fine little church, still holding services to three or five communicants every third Sunday. Not much call for the harmonium. Still, when two or three are gathered together....
"What's your favourite hymn?" I asked.
"Immortal, invisible, God only wise.."
I turned to the page in the hymnal, pulled out a couple of stops, began pedalling, and gave him a few verses.
Not a bad sound, and I did a bit of Grand Wurlitzer-style lingering on some of the chords, to work the echoes and eddies of the acoustics.
"I'll have done twenty miles more than you," I said at one stage, struggling with coordinating my fingers and the pedalling you've got to do with one of these things.
We then sat in the church pews and had a long theological discussion, in which, loving man that he is, my friend accommodated my own stew pot of pagan, Zen, Catholic and downright weird.
Conclusion?
Define God as the universal, positive, elemental and harmonious flow of life force which builds and binds the Universe constantly, and asking "do you believe in God?" becomes like asking "do you believe in hands?"
That little church did its business well yesterday, congregation or no. There we were, the two of us, for a few moments, united in consideration of the sublime. The old building held, harboured and perhaps even engendered our awed and respectful tones.
Now, all together for the next verse:
But of all thy rich graces, this grace, Lord, impart
Take the veil from our faces, the vile from our heart.
Yes. I played a harmonium.
My friend and I had gone on a cycle ride, and I said, "I'd like to visit that church."
We did.
It was a fine little church, still holding services to three or five communicants every third Sunday. Not much call for the harmonium. Still, when two or three are gathered together....
"What's your favourite hymn?" I asked.
"Immortal, invisible, God only wise.."
I turned to the page in the hymnal, pulled out a couple of stops, began pedalling, and gave him a few verses.
Not a bad sound, and I did a bit of Grand Wurlitzer-style lingering on some of the chords, to work the echoes and eddies of the acoustics.
"I'll have done twenty miles more than you," I said at one stage, struggling with coordinating my fingers and the pedalling you've got to do with one of these things.
We then sat in the church pews and had a long theological discussion, in which, loving man that he is, my friend accommodated my own stew pot of pagan, Zen, Catholic and downright weird.
Conclusion?
Define God as the universal, positive, elemental and harmonious flow of life force which builds and binds the Universe constantly, and asking "do you believe in God?" becomes like asking "do you believe in hands?"
That little church did its business well yesterday, congregation or no. There we were, the two of us, for a few moments, united in consideration of the sublime. The old building held, harboured and perhaps even engendered our awed and respectful tones.
Now, all together for the next verse:
But of all thy rich graces, this grace, Lord, impart
Take the veil from our faces, the vile from our heart.
KEEP THE RED FLAG FLYING HIGH
The problem I have with socialists is I've never met one.
I meet a lot of middle class people who talk a lot of guff about equality, redistribution of wealth and other principles of socialism.
But I've never actually met one who practises what he preaches.
A test of this is as follows: do you cut your own income back to the national average and redistribute the rest?
No. I didn't think so.
I meet a lot of middle class people who talk a lot of guff about equality, redistribution of wealth and other principles of socialism.
But I've never actually met one who practises what he preaches.
A test of this is as follows: do you cut your own income back to the national average and redistribute the rest?
No. I didn't think so.
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