A little compliment…

The compliment. Such a small but very powerful gesture. And who would have thought that it would crop up on Oxford Street? Walking back from the gym in my much loved (i.e. faded and falling apart) gym clothes, I was greeted with a rare but warming compliment by a fellow walker. ‘Nice jumper’ was all that passed his lips as he walked past me. As for me – I smiled.

And he didn’t stop there. ‘Nice scarf’. ‘Love the tie’. ‘Cool shoes’. This man dished out various compliments to pedestrians as he passed them. Upon registering that the compliment was directed towards them, recipients would in turn smile.

I love this man and his compliment habit. Why? Because he is verbalising the thoughts that often remain just that – thoughts. Now I’m the first to admit that I check out the clothing of fellow pedestrians. And why not - it’s a fashion runway unfolding right in front of you. I am also the first to admit that when I come across an outfit that appeals to me, I would never verbalise my thoughts.

But Mr Compliment Man has taught me a small lesson. Don’t be afraid to throw a few compliments around here and there. After all, everyone loves a little compliment.

Finally - space in the top draw

My husband is a self confessed hoarder. From bus tickets to empty postcards, used batteries to magazines, he loves to keep those everyday items that the rest of us discard once they are no longer of use to us.

Whilst many of his hoarding obsessions drive me nuts, there is one that I secretly admire - battery hoarding. Most people know that batteries and our environment are enemies - few people would know why (something to do with the acid in batteries?). The point is that Aidan would go to considerable lengths to prevent old batteries from contaminating the environment. He would bag the batteries up and store them in his top draw until he figured out the best way to dispose of them.

Now, whilst the first part of his plan was successful (that bag of batteries started taking over his top draw), the second part was not so successful. After ten years that bag of batteries lived in 3 houses and increased to 6 times its original size. Why you ask? Because no safe and easy solution had been found for their disposal.

Saving our planet is all about taking personal action. It’s about making small contributions each day. One of Aidan’s contributions was his refusal to throw out used batteries with the household rubbish. Why then, if batteries are such a common part of our everyday lives and such a danger to our environment, is safe and easy battery disposal so hard to come by?

I’m sure that if Aidan had really put his mind to it he could have researched and located an old battery depot. But that is not the point. Because battery recycling was essentially a difficult task, that bag of batteries ended up going in the general rubbish bin before we moved to the UK.

Ironically, within the first week of arriving in the UK, I discovered a safe and easy solution to my husband’s battery hoarding obsession. Right next to Sainsbury’s check out counter was a cylinder displaying a huge sign ‘RECYCLE YOUR USED BATTERIES’. Eurika!

Finally, someone is helping out the battery hoarders of our world. Finally someone has made battery disposal safe and easy. Finally I can guarantee space in our top draw!

What are we wishing for?

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

I am guilty. Guilty of wishing for the future. Guilty of living in the future.

Paulo Coelho's advice in his book 'Eleven Minutes' could not be more relevant to me. His message is clear - live your today, not your tomorrow.

I am guilty of doing the very opposite of this.

When I stop and think about it, I constantly wish my 'today' away. I constantly look to my 'tomorrow'.

As I do my morning exercise, I wish the sweat and pain away.

As I catch my morning ferry, I wish the 'wasted' travel time away.

As I rush between meetings at work, I wish the evening would arrive.

As the week progresses, I wish for Friday night.

I could go on and on and on, but I think that it's clear what my problem is. There is too much 'wishing' and too little 'enjoying'.

It's time to shift my perspective. It's time to wish less and enjoy more.

I'm going to enjoy that sweat and pain as a I exercise.

I'm going to cherish that morning downtime on the ferry.

I'm going to seek maximum fulfillment from each and every experience during my day, rather than looking towards the next activity.

And now is a great time to start. I'm going to stop thinking about what I'm going to eat after I finish this post and reflect on what I am committing to.

My time starts now. Let's see how I go.

From now on, the motto 'live your today, not your tomorrow' will be tattooed onto my eyelids.

If only I had this Gen Y rebuttle four years ago....

As a member of Generation Y, I am sick of being branded with the 'flighty, promiscuous, self-centered, unstable, egotistical, over-expecting' brush.

I will never forget the first true 'Gen Y' argument that I had with my Generation X friend as he openly slated the 'kids' from my generation. Whilst reassured that the discussion was not personal, many of the above adjectives were thrown around. Given that this debate occurred almost four years ago, and I am raising it today, it would be fair to conclude that it had a significant impact on me. Why? Because I felt that it lacked perspective and I felt that it lacked context.

Four years later, someone has raised a few very valid points that I desperately wish I had as ammunition four years ago. That person is Hugh Mackay. Yes, I experienced one of those 'damn it, I wish I had thought to say that' moments. If I could re-wind four years and have the same debate with my friend, these are just some of the points that I would have raised:

1. The very fact that Generation Y are the offspring of the most divorced generation in history might explain why many are:

a) commitment adverse - why would we commit when we have seen first hand the pain it has caused our parents?

b) tribally driven - why wouldn't we seek new connections and surrogate families (which are generally facilitated through online communities) to compensate for the highly fragmented world that we have been raised in?

2. Generation Y were raised to be 'wonder children'. We were taught to seize the moment, to never shy away from self-expression, that everyone has the right to voice their opinion and that the world is our oyster. Given this, is there any wonder that we have become more expecting, more demanding and more outspoken than previous generations?

3. I'm sure we have all heard the expression 'Generation Y don't understand money, they don't understand the implications of debt'. Hold up. We are the first generation to go through university knowing that when we graduate, we not only get to wear an over-sized Harry Potter cap, but are the proud owners of a big fat HECS debt. Unlike other generations, we are in debt before we even start working. This has made us more accepting of debt - it's just part of getting educated. And to further this point, I would like to add that society was living on borrowed money long before us Gen Yers got our first credit card. So, it would be fair to say that we have simply learnt from the credit card pros - our parents and Gen X siblings/relatives.

4. The world in which we live in is evolving at a rapid pace. Think social change, think technology change and think economic change. It's all happening and it's happening at a pace that makes our grandparents kiddy. Given this rapidly evolving environment, how would you expect someone to respond? The logical answer is to mirror the environment in which you live in - to stay as agile and dynamic as possible. And this is exactly what Generation Y are doing - we keep our options open in order to adapt when adaption is required. Be it study, career, travel plans, relationships, preferred music genre or religious beliefs, its all about keeping our options open. How can you expect Generation Y to commit when the world in which we live in refuses to?

Just as my friend's attack on Generation Y was not personal, I have not made my above re-buttle points personal. If I could re-wind four years, I would use the above points (thanks Hugh Mackay for the inspiration) to speak on behalf of my generation. I would provide some perspective and context. And as a result of my re-buttle, I would hope that my friend would think twice before he tarnished me or fellow Generation Y members with the 'flighty, promiscuous, self-centered, unstable, egotistical and over-expecting' brush.

A newly wed questioning monogamy?

Herbert and Zelmyra Fisher just celebrated their 85th wedding anniversary. Having recently promised my husband that I would be by his side ‘till death do us part’, their achievement has got me thinking. Upon reading about Herbert and Zelmyra’s anniversary in Tim Elliott’s SMH article and considering his musings, I have grappled with a kaleidoscope of emotions over the past 24 hours.

A couple of things that Tim commented on in his article have got me thinking.

Firstly, we should not use animal anatomy (i.e. the larger the male’s testicle size, the more promiscuity is hard wired into the species - as seen in chimps and baboons who have large testicles, therefore huge sperm production capabilities and are prodigiously promiscuous) to explain, rationalise or justify human polygamy. Why? Because such an observation fails to consider the complexity of emotions that are woven into human relationships and are absent from animal relationships.

Secondly, polygamous behaviour of ancient civilisations is an excuse, not a justification for polygamous behaviour in the 21st century. A ‘they did it, so why can’t we’ attitude doesn’t really cut it for me.

At this point, it would be fare to put me in the ‘idealistic newly-wed’ category. But keep reading, because I have a feeling that what I am about to write is going to surprise even myself!

Yes, I do believe that marriage is for life.
Yes, I do believe that it is possible to enjoy monogamy.
Yes, I do believe in monogamy over polygamy.

Having said all of that, I don’t believe that being in love means you are immune to the opposite sex. However, what’s important is how you chose to manage this ‘lack of immunity’.

From my perspective, there are three potential ways for someone in a relationship to tackle this challenge:
1) choose to run with your emotions, embrace polygamy (and its consequences) and possibly use the above points raised in Tim’s article to justify your actions
2) recognise your emotions, and then put them to bed. Value and be content with what you have rather than fantasise over what your don’t
3) recognise your emotions and find appropriate channels for them to be addressed that don’t impact on your relationship in the long term

Now this is where I surprise myself. My beliefs and values are a product of the society in which I have been raised within. Consequently, I would choose Option 2 as a way to address any ‘lack of immunity ‘ to the opposite sex that I may experience.

Having said that, I find myself strangely open to the Brazilian Mamuse described in Tim’s article – a designated festive period where adults are free to have sex with whoever they chose. Such an idea is a possible solution to Option 3. However, it raises the following questions:

1) Does setting timed ‘parameters’ around polygamy address any desire to be promiscuous in an otherwise monogamous relationship?
2) Is this time-out from monogamy enough to keep the ‘lack of immunity’ at bay, allowing for an otherwise fulfilling and happy monogamous relationship?
3) Would I be willing for my husband and I to participate in this festival?

I have raised a lot of questions - questions that I don’t necessarily have an answer to (especially my last question!). Importantly, I think that a newly wed couple, a middle age couple and an aged couple would have different answers. I’m sure a chat with Herbert and Zelmyra Fisher would shed much more light on this debate! The question that I am burning to ask them is: what role did monogyny and polygamy play in them achieving 85 years of marriage?

Death in Fiction

I love to have a good cry over a book or a solid sob during a film. It’s hugely cathartic.

As I reflect upon these blubbering moments, I can conclude that 90% of the time they are caused by the death of a character. And I know that I am not alone here. Many people are affected by such an occurrence. But what I am interested in is the extent to which people are affected, and why. For the purpose of this discussion, I’m going to call this scale of reactions the ‘blubber-metre’.

What role does the following play in influencing the blubber-metre: the characters’ age, the timing of the characters death within the book/film and our own personal experiences.

Let’s look at the first influencing factor, a character’s age. Is the ‘blubber-metre’ less affected by the death of an elderly character because we feel content in the knowledge that they have lived a long and fulfilling life? Is the ‘blubber-metre’ more affected by the death of a younger character because we feel cheated, on behalf of the character, for the life that they never had a chance to experience? A logical response to this thought would be that the death of an older character should affect us less than the death of a young character. However, here lies the problem. There is nothing logical about our relationship with characters. The beauty of good story telling is the authors’ ability to build a connection between the characters and the audience. Once this connection has been established, the ability to rationalise an elderly character’s death is almost impossible. We are reacting with our heart, not our head! A great example of this is my reaction to Noah and Allie’s death at the end of the Jessica Cymerman’s novel ‘The Notebook’. Despite having witnessed the ‘long and fulfilling’ life that both characters led, and irrespective of both characters dying happily in each others arms, when the book ended I gave the ‘blubber-metre’ a good working. I was inconsolable.

Based on this reasoning, I believe that the ‘blubber-metre’ can be significantly affected by a character’s death, irrespective of their age. This leads me to consider the extent to which the timing of a character’s death in the film or book can affect the ‘blubber-metre’. A logical explanation for my reaction to Noah and Allie’s death is that over time the author successfully established an emotional bond between the characters and myself. Does this suggest that the ‘blubber–metre’ reading is higher when the reader has been given a significant amount of time to establish a relationship with the character that dies? Again, I would say that there is no easy answer to this question. Logic would say yes, however there is another powerful element that we cannot disregard.

And here I introduce the third influencing factor; personal experience. Obviously the more time that you have to establish a relationship with a character; the more likely their death is to affect you (and in turn produce a high ‘blubber-metre’ reading). However, personal experience can disrupt this logic. My reaction to Gerry’s death in ‘PS, I Love You’ is a great example of how personal experience overrides logical reactions to a character’s death. Gerry died around 15 minutes into the movie. As far as I was concerned, insufficient time had passed for me to establish an emotional connection with him. Yet watching this movie on the plane as my husband and I returned from our honeymoon, I was inconsolable. In the space of 15 short minutes, I had subconsciously overlain my own life onto the lives of Gerry and his recent wife Holly. For me, Gerry’s death was so much more than a man dying and leaving behind his newly wed. It was my worst fear being played out right in front of me. In other words, it was not the character’s age, nor the timing of the character’s death that affected me. It was my inability to separate my own life from Gerry and Holly’s life.

The death of a character affects everyone differently. This is because we all have different thresholds for sadness. This is because we all have different emotional attachments with characters. And this is because we all have different personal experiences that we may or may not be able to separate from what is occurring in a book or film.

Based on my own reaction to characters dying in films and novels, I would conclude that I have a low threshold for sadness, that I bond easily to characters and that I struggle to separate my own personal experiences from the lives of characters that I am reading about or watching. Maybe this is why I am potentially more affected than others when a character dies? And maybe this is why I often find myself in the ‘inconsolable’ area of the blubber metre?

Don't be fooled...

What we say we want and what we actually want are enormously different.

Too often we rely on logic and reasoning to articulate what we want, and then wonder why we are left feeling disappointed by the end result.

Jon Steel, a fantastic Strategic Planner who I saw speak a few weeks ago, reminded me of a clever example that clearly demonstrates this phenomenon.

Russian Artists Komar and Melamid were determined to create the 'most wanted' painting. In order to define 'most wanted', they polled the American public to determine what they want to see in art. Questions included 'what is your prefered colour', 'do you prefer modern or traditional art', 'do you prefer sharp angles or soft curves' - you get the idea. Once the data was collated, Komar and Melamid started painting by numbers. They used data to create the piece of art that the American public said they wanted. But what was the American publics' response? They hated it. The logic and reasoning (captured in the data) lead to disappointment.

Komar and Melamid essentially challenged the polling frenzy that was governing society. Their study suggested that the 'ask people what they want and we will give it to them' formula was not necessarily a successful one.

Kevin Rudd's recent demotion as Australia's Prime Minister is yet another example of this. When faced with the need to address climate change, Rudd listened to the publics' rumblings (these were something along the line of 'we want to help the environment, but don't want to endure significant personal sacrifice') and took his foot off the accelerator. The public's response? Anger and disillusionment. Whilst Australians might have grumbled about the individual sacrifices required to save their planet (and in the process appear like they didn't want to be part of climate change action), what they actually wanted was a government that stood firm on national and global environmental needs, and lead the change. Rudd took the publics' word at face value, rather than making a strategic leap that would lead to the right decision.

Do people actually know what they want? Shouldn't we make intelligent leaps to produce interesting, innovative and different solutions? If Henry Ford limited his offering to what people said their dream form of transportation was, his solution would have been a faster and larger horse. Instead, Ford made an intelligent leap to produce a form of transport that people never new they wanted: a motor car.

Is it time to stop taking what people say they want at face value?

Is it time to start taking more intelligent leaps?

Is it time to stop painting by numbers?

Is it time to start giving people more of the unexpected?