Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Canada, China, Colleagues, Context, Culture, Empathy, Friendship, Happiness, Jill, Otis, Paul, Relationships, Relevance, Respect, Travel
I’ve written a lot over the years about the gift of living overseas.
I’ve talked about how I totally understand why people worry about what they’ll miss … but they should also think about what they’ll gain.
I’ve highlighted how I owe everything in my life – bar my relationship with Paul – to me living and working overseas.
Everything.
My wife.
My son.
My cat.
My career.
My whole life.
I don’t say that lightly … and I don’t ignore the fact I’ve also faced things I’ve missed and miss … but overall, it’s an amazing gift the World has given me.
Recently I was given another reminder of how wonderful it is.
I was in Edmonton, in Northern Canada.
It’s the most northern city in the World with a population of 1 million.
I’d never been there before. I’d never even heard of it before. But there I was … in a wonderful restaurant called Ridge Rd, with some clients … when I received this:
It’s a message from someone I knew in China. Someone I last spoke to probably 10+ years ago. But here I was, in a city I’d never been to – far from pretty much every other city I’d been – having an old friend say they were there too. I can’t tell you how lovely that was. How wonderful that an isolated city had brought me closer to someone from my past.
Now you may think that’s kinda-crazy, and I guess it is … but it’s happened before.
It happened when I took my Mum to the North Pole to see the Northern Lights.
It happened when I was in a small town in Brazil.
It happened when I was in Russia.
It happened when I was in Finland.
It has happened a lot because I’ve lived in a lot of countries … and every single time, it’s made me feel incredibly fortunate for the experiences, places and people it has brought into my life.
I get it’s a privilege and I don’t take that for granted.
But that privilege is far more than simply being able to live in different countries or earn different amounts of money – if you’re lucky. It’s about the ability to connect to different people, cultures and contexts. Their backgrounds, their viewpoints, their ambitions, their fears, their issues, their opportunities, their hopes, their references, their perspectives … that’s what the privilege is really about.
It makes you a bigger and better person for it.
Not just in terms of your own knowledge, but your own place in the world.
Which is why, when I got that random SMS from someone I knew in China while sat in a small restaurant in a small city in Northern Canada, I was so happy. Because that could only happen because I said ‘yes’ to opportunities when arguably, it would have been easier to say no.
I get it’s hard. I get not everyone has that chance.
But if you do, grab it. Because nothing lets you feel you’re living life than hearing from people you would have otherwise never met in places you never imagined you would ever go.
A long time ago I met a music journalist who was interviewing rockstars with their kids.
But it wasn’t the typical, ‘what’s it like to have a superstar as a parent’ stuff, it was ‘what’s cringe about having a superstar parent’.
And it was brilliant.
I particularly liked hearing the kids of Heavy Metal superstars talk about how seeing their Dad on stage was ridiculous.
But what made it better was the reaction of the parents.
Because rather than distain or disgust, the overwhelming emotion was pride.
Pride for their kid speaking their mind.
Pride for their kid keeping them grounded.
Pride for their kid seeing them as a parent – not a Rock Star.
Pride for their kid, being their kid.
It was absolutely heartwarming … which is why I love this clip of Pink Floyd guitarist/singer, Dave Gilmour, turning up unannounced at his daughter’s – Romany – gig in a pub in Brighton.
And while you could think he is stealing the spotlight from her – especially when she sees him and says, “So you’ve decided to come and upstage me?” – you realise that’s not the case at all and Romany knows that too.
It’s a Dad, proud of his daughter.
It’s a Dad, supporting his daughter.
It’s a Dad, appreciating his fame may shine a slightly brighter light on his daughters talent.
But most of all, it’s a Dad wanting to experience the joy of playing a song with his daughter.
And it’s all kinds of wonderful.
Wonderful because you see the utterly typical family dynamic that flows naturally and seamlessly between them from the moment he enters the pub.
Wonderful because the pub in question is a ‘ramshackle boozer’, which both reflects Romany’s desire to earn her music chops rather than expect it because of her Dad as well as her Dad’s attitude that he doesn’t care where she’s playing because he’s insanely proud of who she is and what she does.
Wonderful because of the loving glances they share through the song … a song, you presume, they have played in private over many years. A piece of indelible glue that connects them in ways only they will ever understand.
Wonderful because of the hug and kiss they share at the end … not caring for one moment they’re in front of a room of strangers and that parent/child displays of affection aren’t very rock and roll.
But what I love most is David only played one song that night before buying the entire pub a drink and then leaving his daughter to shine on her own. To play her music to an audience even more enamored with her talent and leaving them with a performance they will remember forever, regardless of the time or other performances they witness.
At a time where there is so much performative displays of toxic strength, confidence and arrogance in the World … the real badasses are the ones who show the love they have for the people who matter most without limits, boundaries of ‘corporate filters’.
In one ways its a moment of utter mundanity.
In others, it’s an act of human wonderfulness.
Which serves as a reminder that while fame can impress others, the people who really matter only see – and value – who you really are.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Content, Emotion, Empathy, Entertainment, Football, Happiness, Love, Loyalty, Netflix, Sport
For a Monday, a post about misery, tragedy and death feels especially appropriate.
You see there’s a show on Netflix called, Sunderland Til’ I Die.
It’s about Sunderland Athletic Football Club where over 3 seasons, they follow the fall … and fall … and slight rise of the team and the affect this has on the players, the fans and the community that surrounds them.
It’s a story of mismanagement, false promises, hope, dreams, pain and desperation and frankly, it’s one of the best shows on Netflix, let alone football.
I’ve watched it countless times because it’s more than a story about football, it’s about how it feels to be left behind by society, industry and government.
A situation many people following many different football teams experience and face all around the World.
Anyway – without wanting to give anything away – the above quote comes from the show.
It’s not a pivotal moment in the series and yet it impacts you like it is.
Because the context of it makes you think about what you’re doing, what you’re working for and towards in your life.
What legacy will you leave?
Will you be remembered?
Will you have mattered?
I appreciate that sounds quite deep for a show about a football team in the North of England, but it’s that good.
Leaving you with understanding why it’s so important to love forever and always.
Regardless of the times or the challenges.
Because at the end of the day, it matters. Even when it hurts like a motherfucker.
It’s a brilliant lesson for life which is why, while I’ll never be a Sunderland fan, I’ll always be a fan of Sunderland.
May.
Already.
That’s bonkers … before I know it we’ll be living wherever we’ll be living and waving goodbye to Otis who’ll be doing whatever he wants to be doing when he hits 18. For gods sake time, slow the fuck down.
I say that, but this month is going to be a mad one for me with trips to Australia – twice – two cities in China and two in America, so I’ll be happy when we hit June and I can prepare for being underwhelmed with my 54th birthday present, ha.
Anyway, now that’s over, let’s get on with things shall we?
So despite having written this blog for almost 2 decades, I often forget anyone reads it.
Even more so, since I stopped the comments.
But over the years, I have had moments where it’s been impossible to ignore.
Not just in terms of trolls and insults but the time Business Insider wrote about it.
And Business Week magazine.
And Campaign.
But the biggest shocks have been when I’ve had comments from people I never imagined would visit.
Rosenberg from Google.
Mensch from Q-Prime.
Richard bloody Branson.
And then, the best of the best, my Mum.
Of course, most of them never made the same mistake again … but it’s a real source of pride.
The reason I say this is because a few weeks ago I wrote about a famous person who sent me flowers to thank me for my contribution to their work which resulted in them winning a massive international music/entertainment award.
As I wrote at the time, it was ridiculously generous because [1] it was a long time ago and [2] in the big scheme of things, my involvement was smaller than a grain of sand and they should really be thinking nothing other than how talented and brilliant they are.
Well, the individual in question only bloody read that post didn’t they!
And how do I know that? Because they sent me this.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!
Yes, I know I am not saying who it is but what I can tell you is that as shocked as you would be – and you would – it still wouldn’t be as shocked as I was when I realised that after almost 20 years of writing this rubbish, this blog has finally got me some work.
[Acknowledging the last bit of work I did for this person was paid for by another person, so maybe I’m just being offered the chance to work for them for free, ha]
OK, I accept taking almost 2 decades to get 1 piece of work is hardly Effie worthy, but it’s more effective than Linkedin has ever been for me.
Or anyone else I know on that platform.
Which means – using the power of ‘WeWork maths’ – this blog should be worth more than Linkedin, so I’m off to get my billion bucks from Softbank.
[I know, I know … I’ve gone a bit loopy, but all this happened in the last 24 hours, which means this is also the most topical post to ever appeared on this blog as well]
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Bird, Bonnie, Cats, Comment, Family, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, Otis, Rosie, Sky
I’m back.
But I barely survived.
Part of that is because my trip was full-on.
The other part is having a puppy is even more full-on.
Seriously, it’s like having a baby all over again. Fortunately, we loved that period of our life so it’s not too bad … but bloody hell, it’s also pretty demanding.
A few months ago, I wrote about how people in agencies should be taught ‘the art of conflict management‘ … but now I think the other skill we should all be taught is puppy training.
If that doesn’t teach you how to be patient and calm when facing a barrage of noise and needs, nothing will.
That, or go work in China, hahaha.
That said, it is lovely having a pet in the house again. As I wrote before, while Rosie was a small cat, she filled the house with her presence and personality – and while we still have had Otis’, Sky, over these months, it hasn’t been quite the same.
But now, with Bonnie, the house has a new energy in it.
Sure, it’s slightly manic and lacking any degree of peace … but that’s a small price to pay to have life bubbling again. No wonder my Mum loved it when I came home to visit her. Not just because she was very happy to see me, but because my friends would come around and suddenly the place was a bustle of noise and laughter … a rewind to what daily life was like when Dad and I were around.
I get it. I just wish I could tell her that I do.
What’s interesting is we didn’t meet our dog until we picked her up … so we were totally reliant on the breeder being smart with her recommendation. Not because we were being picky about its looks … but because in addition to being a family pet, she has to be a trained support dog for Otis, hence temperament is key.
Thanks to the training she’s received from the breeder – and us – so far, it’s been good, but like Rosie it will definitely take some time until we find our own unique rhythm.
Finding the rhythm is a magical thing.
Some of it comes from ritual. Some from the environment. But most of it comes from the interactions you have and keep having together.
But when you find it, it’s special because it evolves into a sort-of invisible bridge where you can come together in the middle … with the knowledge to understand the unsaid. To interpret different sounds and signs.
It’s why that quote at the top of the page made such an impact on me when I read it.
A reminder that one of the most powerful ways to know how much someone has impacted you, is to look for those traits in others. Not so they become who someone was, but because they show you the best you can be.
So welcome Bonnie. Thank you for what you’ve given us already.