As promised to some of you in person, here's my list of the greatest things of my 2006. This is part of an exercise my coach suggested, and which I've passed around. Perhaps you'd like to try it yourself. Part of the brief is that once you've created the list, you share it with the people who've been a part of making your year be what it's been.
1. Kat moving in
2. Carol and Mark getting married
3. Carol and Mark becoming neighbours
4. Discovering my passion as a coach
5. Going to Andalusia with Kat
5 a) Gazing at the Alhambra at night from the Arab quarter of Granada
5 b) Gazing over the gorge in Ronda from our amazing hotel room (and from its dining room)
6. Abseiling with Fred on our very active outdoorsy holiday in Shropshire in the summer
7. Starting a Blog
8. Discovering the joys of decluttering
9. going a whole year without even wanting to smoke
10. rediscovering playing the guitar - singing 'Fairytale of New York' with Kat
11. starting Scotland's first Life Club
12. becoming an international coach
13. having my sister and her sons Mark and Robin visiting us from America - taking Mark mountain biking
14. seeing three of my best mates from school for the first time in many years the other night - Gardner Molloy, Stu McDonald and Fergus Buchanan
15. Fred's amazing display of his dancing prowess at Hogmanay
16. Having a gorgeous dinner with Kat at the Drum and Monkey in Harrogate in April
17. Meeting Kat's family and friends
18. finally cleaning the windows in my flat
19. not having a lodger any more
20. having dozens of really committed, wonderful clients
Sunday, 31 December 2006
Saturday, 16 December 2006
Back to vinyl
Records are something I've rediscovered this year. I never got rid of my record collection. It's always been something I've been very proud of, and which represents a lot for me. However, I've been out of the habit of listening to them for years. I've been a sucker for the ease of CDs, seduced by their availability and compactness. Records are so much more demanding and fussy; they are the prima donna of the audio media world. I mean, even the humble cassette can be played on a deck with an auto-reverse feature. Haughty vinyl, however, requires one to come across and flip it over mid-album. If we don't acquiesce to this attention-seeking ploy, it makes that quiet yet persistent - nay, relentless - bumping sound that says 'I've got to the end of the side, you're going to have to move the needle now.'
But all this fuss only serves to make vinyl more loveable, more warts-and-all authentic. When my girlfriend moved in a few months ago and brought her records with her, that was it. Vinyl's back, along with changing sides and wiping the dust off (or rather trying to - you're always on a hiding to nothing with that little exercise). And so I've been listening to lots of neglected tunes, many from the years 1977-84. Being a 41 year old dad throws a new light onto some; for example, I've found that Machine Gun Etiquette by The Damned is the perfect album for Scalextric racing. The other week I listened to Playing With A Different Sex, an album by angsty feminist punk band The Au Pairs. I was hoovering at the time. I found myself knowing every song off by heart after 20 years, and wondered why I spent so much time at that stage of my life listening to a band whose every song condemned my entire gender as being bastards.
The best bit though came the other day when I paid my first visit to Oxfam Music. Thanks to the specialisatory approach Oxfam are developing, here was mountains of charity shop vinyl under one roof. All the sort of thing that was in the shops when I was at the height of my record collecting heyday. And the same prices too - I always had a rule that I'd pay no more than £3 for a record, and there were plenty at that rate. Paradise. In fact, given that one of my purchases was Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell, you could say Paradise By The Dashboard Light. Mmmm...
But all this fuss only serves to make vinyl more loveable, more warts-and-all authentic. When my girlfriend moved in a few months ago and brought her records with her, that was it. Vinyl's back, along with changing sides and wiping the dust off (or rather trying to - you're always on a hiding to nothing with that little exercise). And so I've been listening to lots of neglected tunes, many from the years 1977-84. Being a 41 year old dad throws a new light onto some; for example, I've found that Machine Gun Etiquette by The Damned is the perfect album for Scalextric racing. The other week I listened to Playing With A Different Sex, an album by angsty feminist punk band The Au Pairs. I was hoovering at the time. I found myself knowing every song off by heart after 20 years, and wondered why I spent so much time at that stage of my life listening to a band whose every song condemned my entire gender as being bastards.
The best bit though came the other day when I paid my first visit to Oxfam Music. Thanks to the specialisatory approach Oxfam are developing, here was mountains of charity shop vinyl under one roof. All the sort of thing that was in the shops when I was at the height of my record collecting heyday. And the same prices too - I always had a rule that I'd pay no more than £3 for a record, and there were plenty at that rate. Paradise. In fact, given that one of my purchases was Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell, you could say Paradise By The Dashboard Light. Mmmm...
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Priscilla, Queen of Christmas Spirit
Just watched 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert'. It's an excellent film I've watched a few times, but this time I noticed a few things that I hadn't before. I love how this happens - when you open up to thinking about something in a new way, thought-provoking stuff turns up in all sorts of funny places. Given that for me at the moment it's being a dad and a son, I find it rather cute that a movie about drag queens should give me such pause for thought.
One thing I spotted was the line where Terence Stamp's character says 'I never got a chance to tell them what a wonderful childhood I'd had.' He means once he had his gender-swapping operation. I've never had such an operation, but I did cut myself off from my family pretty decisively some time ago. Thing is, the rift is now at least nominally healed - but have I yet told them what a wonderful childhood I've had? Not really.
Steve Biddulph, in his excellent book 'Manhood', notes that all fathers want the respect of their sons, and vice versa. This is something else that's present in Priscilla. Hugo Weaving's character Mitzi meets his son properly for the first time, and is terrified what he'll think of having a gay dad. For years he's been shying away from opening up that can of worms and facing up to that fear, and it's been eating him; now he confronts it, and everything's fine. Actually it's better than that - he discovers his son respects him, loves him, and admires him, and it's a colossal revelation. The can of worms turns out to be a box of chocolates.
You don't have to be gay to have those barriers - cutting members of your family off or cutting yourself off from them can happen in all sorts of ways. We can blame ourselves, or other people. Sometimes we're only barely aware that it's even happening, and you wake up one day and realise there's a great big chasm between you and your parents or brother or whoever. Relationships, especially family ones, are prominent at Christmas of course - tragically, all too many of us find Christmas painful because of that.
There's all sorts of advice that could be given, but it all boils down to this - open communication. Talk, listen, empathise, be open, listen, hear. And let go of the idea that your point of view is the truth. If you're up on the moral high ground - isn't it lonely up there? Even if there's a rousing chorus of other people agreeing with you that you are completely In The Right? If you're feeling awkward or guilty that you've not called someone for ages, or held back from saying something, think how great they - and you - will feel when you call, or come out with it.
Christmas is coming. Let's talk, listen, forgive, clap our arms around each other and make it a happy one. Remember, the best boxes of chocolates are hidden in cans of worms.
One thing I spotted was the line where Terence Stamp's character says 'I never got a chance to tell them what a wonderful childhood I'd had.' He means once he had his gender-swapping operation. I've never had such an operation, but I did cut myself off from my family pretty decisively some time ago. Thing is, the rift is now at least nominally healed - but have I yet told them what a wonderful childhood I've had? Not really.
Steve Biddulph, in his excellent book 'Manhood', notes that all fathers want the respect of their sons, and vice versa. This is something else that's present in Priscilla. Hugo Weaving's character Mitzi meets his son properly for the first time, and is terrified what he'll think of having a gay dad. For years he's been shying away from opening up that can of worms and facing up to that fear, and it's been eating him; now he confronts it, and everything's fine. Actually it's better than that - he discovers his son respects him, loves him, and admires him, and it's a colossal revelation. The can of worms turns out to be a box of chocolates.
You don't have to be gay to have those barriers - cutting members of your family off or cutting yourself off from them can happen in all sorts of ways. We can blame ourselves, or other people. Sometimes we're only barely aware that it's even happening, and you wake up one day and realise there's a great big chasm between you and your parents or brother or whoever. Relationships, especially family ones, are prominent at Christmas of course - tragically, all too many of us find Christmas painful because of that.
There's all sorts of advice that could be given, but it all boils down to this - open communication. Talk, listen, empathise, be open, listen, hear. And let go of the idea that your point of view is the truth. If you're up on the moral high ground - isn't it lonely up there? Even if there's a rousing chorus of other people agreeing with you that you are completely In The Right? If you're feeling awkward or guilty that you've not called someone for ages, or held back from saying something, think how great they - and you - will feel when you call, or come out with it.
Christmas is coming. Let's talk, listen, forgive, clap our arms around each other and make it a happy one. Remember, the best boxes of chocolates are hidden in cans of worms.
Friday, 8 December 2006
Decluttering
My first Life Club went well, despite initial nerves and getting a little mixed up at one point. Decluttering was the main theme, and in the wake of leading it, I've been doing some decluttering myself. Once I got into the subject I realised that although I always thought of it as basically clearing out the wardrobe and doing a charity shop run, decluttering's actually a very powerful and versatile tool you can apply to anything. Indeed, it's an almost essential first step to giving your life a makeover.
The thing is though that the stuff you don't want could be anything. Clothes no longer worn and half-finished work on desks are obvious examples, but there's all sorts of things that take up space and energy that could be used for other things. I think what I could most do with decluttering is all those calls to people in my life I haven't made, allowing them instead to pile up on my 'inner desk'!
What's great about it is that the energy seems to be transferrable. My girlfriend Kat moved in a few months ago, and we recently finally got around to hanging pictures. The place looks a whole lot better and the piles of yet-to-be-dealt with stuff have all but disappeared. Rooms look bigger, and are easier to move around in. All that's great, and what you might expect. But there's more, the really interesting stuff. It actually feels like a home - our home. I feel like we're closer now, and that when people visit us here, what they see speaks to them of that closeness. I like that.
I also feel 'called forth' in a curious sort of way, like it's summoning up a hitherto unfamiliar organised version of me. My desk is tidier, and I feel the urge to clear out my in-tray. I even got a computer consultant in for advice about how to sort out my IT requirements properly, instead of continuing to thrash about feeling stupid because I can't figure out how to get software to do a task it isn't really capable of.
It all makes me think of my friend Neil's house. He's a wonderful graphic designer, and has one of those homes most of us would call minimalistic (and possibly not mean it that kindly!) But the thing is everything's there, and it all has a place to be. If a house is a machine for living, it's simply that his is a very efficient and ergonomically designed one. And what I find fascinating is that that makes it very easy to keep tidy - putting things back where they belong seems somehow to be the easy option, unlike in my office. In Neil's home office there's a bike hanging on the wall and a massive Scalextric set all over the floor - but it's still easy to work there.
My coach recently asked me what one thing I'd like to pinch from Neil and his home. I think it's the momentum towards peace that I feel there, that feeling of 'everything I want, nothing I don't want'.
The thing is though that the stuff you don't want could be anything. Clothes no longer worn and half-finished work on desks are obvious examples, but there's all sorts of things that take up space and energy that could be used for other things. I think what I could most do with decluttering is all those calls to people in my life I haven't made, allowing them instead to pile up on my 'inner desk'!
What's great about it is that the energy seems to be transferrable. My girlfriend Kat moved in a few months ago, and we recently finally got around to hanging pictures. The place looks a whole lot better and the piles of yet-to-be-dealt with stuff have all but disappeared. Rooms look bigger, and are easier to move around in. All that's great, and what you might expect. But there's more, the really interesting stuff. It actually feels like a home - our home. I feel like we're closer now, and that when people visit us here, what they see speaks to them of that closeness. I like that.
I also feel 'called forth' in a curious sort of way, like it's summoning up a hitherto unfamiliar organised version of me. My desk is tidier, and I feel the urge to clear out my in-tray. I even got a computer consultant in for advice about how to sort out my IT requirements properly, instead of continuing to thrash about feeling stupid because I can't figure out how to get software to do a task it isn't really capable of.
It all makes me think of my friend Neil's house. He's a wonderful graphic designer, and has one of those homes most of us would call minimalistic (and possibly not mean it that kindly!) But the thing is everything's there, and it all has a place to be. If a house is a machine for living, it's simply that his is a very efficient and ergonomically designed one. And what I find fascinating is that that makes it very easy to keep tidy - putting things back where they belong seems somehow to be the easy option, unlike in my office. In Neil's home office there's a bike hanging on the wall and a massive Scalextric set all over the floor - but it's still easy to work there.
My coach recently asked me what one thing I'd like to pinch from Neil and his home. I think it's the momentum towards peace that I feel there, that feeling of 'everything I want, nothing I don't want'.
Sunday, 3 December 2006
Politicians and Christmas cards
My festive run-up was recently started when a chap from Radio Scotland rang and asked for my views about Christmas cards. It was an interesting and perhaps surprisingly thought-provoking discussion. One thing it touched on was the cards politicians send; apparently Tony Blair will be sending out a card adorned with a picture of his family. Not a surprise that one really: his style is pretty paternalistic.
I like that in a leader incidentally. James VI & I, one of my favourite kings and a widely respected political theorist of his time, compared the role of king to that of father. While he believed that God had chosen him for his position as monarch, he also believed that with that went a duty of care and guidance to his subjects. No direct comparisons intended here of course, but I reckon that not so much has changed from the age of Absolute Monarchy to the age of Democracy. When you’re in charge, you have to care and guide. How good you are is partly defined by how well you handle the situations when care and guidance come into conflict.
Leaders also have to be in communication with those they represent, care for and guide. My son Fred recently entered a Christmas card competition, and he announced yesterday that the entries were being exhibited in a local shopping centre. That's pretty cool when you're 10 years old of course, but what really made him stick his chest out with pride was that he got a certificate from our MP Mark Lazarowicz . Fred's met him before, at an evironmental awareness event at his school. 'I asked him a question,' Fred said to me solemnly, 'And he gave me an answer.'
Definitely one of those 'Ahh, don't kids say great things!' moments. But also I'm impressed. I'm impressed by Mark Lazarowicz's policy of engaging with kids. It's worrying that there's so much voter apathy, and I think the only real solution is long term. It involves people seeing politicians as people who listen to us and make a positive difference. Pro-active, listening, caring leadership. If politicians show us their interest, they'll get ours.
I like that in a leader incidentally. James VI & I, one of my favourite kings and a widely respected political theorist of his time, compared the role of king to that of father. While he believed that God had chosen him for his position as monarch, he also believed that with that went a duty of care and guidance to his subjects. No direct comparisons intended here of course, but I reckon that not so much has changed from the age of Absolute Monarchy to the age of Democracy. When you’re in charge, you have to care and guide. How good you are is partly defined by how well you handle the situations when care and guidance come into conflict.
Leaders also have to be in communication with those they represent, care for and guide. My son Fred recently entered a Christmas card competition, and he announced yesterday that the entries were being exhibited in a local shopping centre. That's pretty cool when you're 10 years old of course, but what really made him stick his chest out with pride was that he got a certificate from our MP Mark Lazarowicz . Fred's met him before, at an evironmental awareness event at his school. 'I asked him a question,' Fred said to me solemnly, 'And he gave me an answer.'
Definitely one of those 'Ahh, don't kids say great things!' moments. But also I'm impressed. I'm impressed by Mark Lazarowicz's policy of engaging with kids. It's worrying that there's so much voter apathy, and I think the only real solution is long term. It involves people seeing politicians as people who listen to us and make a positive difference. Pro-active, listening, caring leadership. If politicians show us their interest, they'll get ours.
Thursday, 30 November 2006
Life Clubs!
A new project is coming to fruition: I'll be leading Scotland's first Life Club on Tuesday evening. This is something I've been working on for a few weeks. Life Clubs are the brain child of Co-Active coach and writer for the Daily Telegraph Nina Grunfeld - check out the website here . I love the idea of them - they're weekly workshops, each self-contained so you can come as often as you like. I'm away for the weekend training with Nina - honing my workshop skills and getting ready to host the club. I've got what has to be the ideal venue too - a meeting room in a nice quiet corner of one of my favourite pubs, the Cumberland Bar . Nice debriefing facilities then...
It's on every Tuesday evening (though not over Christmas) at 7pm. In December I've got a special 'try it for a fiver' offer - it's only £5 for your first time. Bring your pals and give it a shot!
It's on every Tuesday evening (though not over Christmas) at 7pm. In December I've got a special 'try it for a fiver' offer - it's only £5 for your first time. Bring your pals and give it a shot!
Sunday, 26 November 2006
Hero spotting
A couple of weks ago I saw my good friend Jeremy, who lives in Highgate in London.
'Remember when we got chatting with that guy in the pub, and he used to be in the music business?' he said.
I thought back a few months. Jeremy and I both have pasts on the fringes - the very fringes - of the music business, so we felt fairly self-congratulatory about spotting a fellow musician in his local pub. Like we'd identified one of our own kind with our muso-dars. We felt compadre-ship with him, and had no doubt he shared this. Here's a couple of chaps who understand me, he must have thought.
'Oh yeah,' I said.
'Know who it was?'
'No - should I?'
'It was Ray Davis.'
One dumbstruck pause later I burst into hysterical laughter. We'd exchanged banter with the frontman of the Kinks, Sixties icon, super-fine songwriter, general legend and arguably the man who invented heavy rock. And that exchange had essentially been: 'Hey, you look like you're a musician.' 'Yeah, I used to be in the biz.'
Ray Davis isn't the only hero who's come into my life unrecognised though. Michael Lister, the man who raised me, falls into that category too. I've been doing something about getting closer to him recently, revising my views of him and his role in my childhood. One thing strikes me though. I've never thought of him as my hero, and it hasn't occured to me to ask myself - what if he is? What sort of hero is he? What has he inspired in me?
Let's be clear - I didn't speak to him for 13 years, there's plenty of re-bonding to do. It seems like these might be useful questions to look at as we do it. But it strikes me that even if we'd never fallen out of communication, if that rift had never happened, I could very well have still never noticed that hero on my doorstep.
'Remember when we got chatting with that guy in the pub, and he used to be in the music business?' he said.
I thought back a few months. Jeremy and I both have pasts on the fringes - the very fringes - of the music business, so we felt fairly self-congratulatory about spotting a fellow musician in his local pub. Like we'd identified one of our own kind with our muso-dars. We felt compadre-ship with him, and had no doubt he shared this. Here's a couple of chaps who understand me, he must have thought.
'Oh yeah,' I said.
'Know who it was?'
'No - should I?'
'It was Ray Davis.'
One dumbstruck pause later I burst into hysterical laughter. We'd exchanged banter with the frontman of the Kinks, Sixties icon, super-fine songwriter, general legend and arguably the man who invented heavy rock. And that exchange had essentially been: 'Hey, you look like you're a musician.' 'Yeah, I used to be in the biz.'
Ray Davis isn't the only hero who's come into my life unrecognised though. Michael Lister, the man who raised me, falls into that category too. I've been doing something about getting closer to him recently, revising my views of him and his role in my childhood. One thing strikes me though. I've never thought of him as my hero, and it hasn't occured to me to ask myself - what if he is? What sort of hero is he? What has he inspired in me?
Let's be clear - I didn't speak to him for 13 years, there's plenty of re-bonding to do. It seems like these might be useful questions to look at as we do it. But it strikes me that even if we'd never fallen out of communication, if that rift had never happened, I could very well have still never noticed that hero on my doorstep.
Friday, 24 November 2006
Carrot or stick? Or what?
A while ago I frequented internet dating sites. (I'm glad I did by the way, because that's how I met the love of my life!) Filling in my profile on one site, I had to tick a whole series of little questions designed to shed light on my personality. I was breezing through them, as you do, when one brought me to an unexpected stop - 'Carrot or stick?'
It pulled me up because I couldn't answer. Well, except to say neither. The thing is, they're the same. What's the difference between rewarding my son's good behaviour with, say, more time in front of the TV, and punishing bad behaviour by taking it away? (I'd love to say extra vegetables rather than TV here, but I really would be misleading you about what I've succeeded in instilling in him in the way of healthy values.) Either way, it's about coercing children to do what we say; calling it rewarding doesn't make any difference.
It's a big problem for us parents in today's world though - how to motivate kids. If our children know what they want to do with the rest of their lives we can say, 'Want to be a doctor? Well, you'll need to work hard and do well at sciences and things like that.' If they've got a future to live into, a source of ambition and drive, that's very effective. In fact that's something I find myself exploring with coaching clients sometimes - identifying something exciting to place in the future to live towards.
However, when we say 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' to a kid, we're asking them 'So where do you see yourself in 15 years time?' That's a pretty big one. A friend of mine decided at the age of 7 he wanted to be a top graphic designer - and now he is. But I didn't have any sort of answer to that till I was about 38.
What does amaze me about kids though is how much vision they often DO have, despite everything the adult world flings at them in terms of immediate gratification. Our mission is perhaps less to instil it, more to nurture it. I suspect that has more to do with a child's own talents and passions than those of his or her parents. How many times have we said something that essentially says 'All I want is for you to be happy. Here's how to be happy'?
So, carrot or stick? Fertiliser, please.
It pulled me up because I couldn't answer. Well, except to say neither. The thing is, they're the same. What's the difference between rewarding my son's good behaviour with, say, more time in front of the TV, and punishing bad behaviour by taking it away? (I'd love to say extra vegetables rather than TV here, but I really would be misleading you about what I've succeeded in instilling in him in the way of healthy values.) Either way, it's about coercing children to do what we say; calling it rewarding doesn't make any difference.
It's a big problem for us parents in today's world though - how to motivate kids. If our children know what they want to do with the rest of their lives we can say, 'Want to be a doctor? Well, you'll need to work hard and do well at sciences and things like that.' If they've got a future to live into, a source of ambition and drive, that's very effective. In fact that's something I find myself exploring with coaching clients sometimes - identifying something exciting to place in the future to live towards.
However, when we say 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' to a kid, we're asking them 'So where do you see yourself in 15 years time?' That's a pretty big one. A friend of mine decided at the age of 7 he wanted to be a top graphic designer - and now he is. But I didn't have any sort of answer to that till I was about 38.
What does amaze me about kids though is how much vision they often DO have, despite everything the adult world flings at them in terms of immediate gratification. Our mission is perhaps less to instil it, more to nurture it. I suspect that has more to do with a child's own talents and passions than those of his or her parents. How many times have we said something that essentially says 'All I want is for you to be happy. Here's how to be happy'?
So, carrot or stick? Fertiliser, please.
Wednesday, 22 November 2006
Clingy dad!
I saw this article linked to from my old chum Andy Armstrong's website. In Holland, it seems, there's this idea going about that it might be a good thing to take away the traffic lights and have motorists take on responsibility for themselves. They've been trying it in one town for seven years, and for that whole period the road fatalities figure has dropped to zero. Admittedly the previous rate was one death in three years, but that's still pretty good news for whoever's number would otherwise have been up. And the traffic flow is apparently much smoother and more efficient too. Trusting people to be responsible for themselves! Cool! If you want people to look after themselves, LET them look after themselves. Counter-intuitive maybe, but apparently true.
Which reminded me that trusting my son to be more responsible for himself as he gets older is a bit of a sore point at the moment. It's not that he's untrustworthy - it's just that I'm a VERY CLINGY DAD. Riding bikes together recently, he had his first short blasts on the road. Other recent innovations include him walking back home from school, and going to the local park while I'm at some nearby shop or cafe. He's ten years old, yet my heart is displaying a disturbing fondness for taking up (hopefully temporary) residence in my throat.
I'd ask 'When does this stop?' but I've coached people on exactly this issue - except their kids are at the leaving-home-to-go-to-university stage. So I know it's likely to continue. Thinking about it, I know enough people of my own age whose parents are still wrestling with it.
So I guess I'd better give up waiting for it to stop. Time to let go of my resistance to letting go. Maybe it's one of those things I could remove from my inner desk.
Which reminded me that trusting my son to be more responsible for himself as he gets older is a bit of a sore point at the moment. It's not that he's untrustworthy - it's just that I'm a VERY CLINGY DAD. Riding bikes together recently, he had his first short blasts on the road. Other recent innovations include him walking back home from school, and going to the local park while I'm at some nearby shop or cafe. He's ten years old, yet my heart is displaying a disturbing fondness for taking up (hopefully temporary) residence in my throat.
I'd ask 'When does this stop?' but I've coached people on exactly this issue - except their kids are at the leaving-home-to-go-to-university stage. So I know it's likely to continue. Thinking about it, I know enough people of my own age whose parents are still wrestling with it.
So I guess I'd better give up waiting for it to stop. Time to let go of my resistance to letting go. Maybe it's one of those things I could remove from my inner desk.
Monday, 20 November 2006
Mark the builder
There's a quotation I can't quite remember which I think is from Picasso. It's about every act of creation beginning as an act of destruction. In recent months I've been creating a lot of new stuff around specialising in coaching for dads. My friend and coach Carol today handed me my cue to consider - what am I destroying?
I do have considerable previous form as a pack-rat, so I suspect there's a bunch of stuff that I could chuck in life's bonfire here. Just looking at my desk, there's a fair bit there that, if destroyed, would clear some space for creating. Beyond that? I guess this is where I have to pull the office chair of my mind up to my inner desk and get decluttering. Those mental executive toys have to go for a start...
I do have considerable previous form as a pack-rat, so I suspect there's a bunch of stuff that I could chuck in life's bonfire here. Just looking at my desk, there's a fair bit there that, if destroyed, would clear some space for creating. Beyond that? I guess this is where I have to pull the office chair of my mind up to my inner desk and get decluttering. Those mental executive toys have to go for a start...
Sunday, 19 November 2006
R 'n' B vs. Rock: Who da manly?
I saw an interview with George Michael the other day, in which something he said caught my ear. Basically, he made a distinction between two opposing elements within popular music - the music of sexual prowess, and the music of sexual frustration. Interestingly he tagged rock as being based on frustration, while soul and R'n'B are expressions of carnal knowledgeability.
Obviously this is no hard and fast rule, but it's an interesting idea to kick around. Which bands are which? And which sort predominate in your music collection? Is this a new criterion to add to the indexing information on MP3 downloads? Plainly Prince wants us to know he's the king of the horizontal bossa nova, while the Smiths are telling us they're far from convinced they'll ever get laid. And what of other genres?
This has also woken me up to a long-held assumption I didn't realise I had. It always seemed to me that rock was about as manly as music got. No judgements there - I love all sorts of music - but somehow Marvin Gaye was never as macho as Motorhead. All that rock-god posturing and amps turned up to 11 - could it really mean that we've come to equate manhood with sexual frustration?
Obviously this is no hard and fast rule, but it's an interesting idea to kick around. Which bands are which? And which sort predominate in your music collection? Is this a new criterion to add to the indexing information on MP3 downloads? Plainly Prince wants us to know he's the king of the horizontal bossa nova, while the Smiths are telling us they're far from convinced they'll ever get laid. And what of other genres?
This has also woken me up to a long-held assumption I didn't realise I had. It always seemed to me that rock was about as manly as music got. No judgements there - I love all sorts of music - but somehow Marvin Gaye was never as macho as Motorhead. All that rock-god posturing and amps turned up to 11 - could it really mean that we've come to equate manhood with sexual frustration?
Sunday, 24 September 2006
With a little help from...
Jon Burr, friend, father, chef, fellow coach, and all-round Good Egg has pitched in with his support. This is a great boon to me. He's a mate, we trained together, and he's also coached fathers. He's given me lots of ideas and reading to pursue. Speaking with him's awoken me to the need for coaches specializing in working with dads. Coaching involves a close relationship between coach and client, and having stuff in common is very helpful. Things as major as your gender and being a parent naturally have an impact on how you see the world. So if you're a dad and you've got a coach, even if it's for something not directly about parenting, it might be wise to choose a coach who's a dad too. Hmm.
Wednesday, 20 September 2006
Choosing coaching dads
I've been a life coach for a couple of years now, and I've been looking for a niche to specialize in. I thought about coaching the self-employed and small business owners. After all, I've always been self-employed, since my days as a musician, studio owner and composer/producer of film and TV music. Also, most of my friends have always been in the same boat; it's something I'm pretty familiar with. So it ticked a lot of boxes. It somehow didn't click though.
Then, on holiday recently, it struck me that what I could get passionate about was coaching fathers. I've got two (not counting the ex-in-laws, quasi-father-figures etc), know quite a few, and have been one for 10 years now. But the big thing is, I'm excited about exploring fatherhood. What's a bit odd is that I hadn't quite realised that until I decided to coach fathers.
I'm getting the feeling that there's going to be some interesting stuff cropping up, and that's why I'm starting this blog. I hope you get something out of it too.
Then, on holiday recently, it struck me that what I could get passionate about was coaching fathers. I've got two (not counting the ex-in-laws, quasi-father-figures etc), know quite a few, and have been one for 10 years now. But the big thing is, I'm excited about exploring fatherhood. What's a bit odd is that I hadn't quite realised that until I decided to coach fathers.
I'm getting the feeling that there's going to be some interesting stuff cropping up, and that's why I'm starting this blog. I hope you get something out of it too.
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