I was reminded of this the other day with a challenge from Liz Strauss to test our concepts of being time rich and time poor. It’s the link with the picture that tells the more compelling story – the one that lingers, the one that flickers through our mind to slow down when we’re moving too fast.  (You’ll have to take the test to find out which link takes you to the picture.  What do you mean you don’t have time?!)

Thought about it some more this afternoon – a most glorious early winter day in Edinburgh, when the leaves are dancing in all their faded glory.

You’d have to be moving really fast not to stop and feel thankful on a day like today.

And I did.

Slow Down

Slowed down and stopped to take some photos.  To breathe in the wonder of the day.

And I found some words to express that feeling of gratitude.  But I’m left with the lingering feeling that it’s the pictures that I took that will stay with me like the rays of winter sunlight, piercing my consciousness long after the last leaves have fallen.

How about you?  How do you express these waves of gratitude?  Is it through words, pictures, music, song?

So it’s a big thanks to Hilda Carroll for her amazing effort to compile the ultimate "feel good" playlist.  With uplifting songs from some great blog writers and positive thinking experts this list is guaranteed to blast through the gloom.

She hasn’t done a top 10 but I’m pretty sure the first song on the list, and Hilda’s own first choice, would be on it.  The song is Shine by Take That – and while I’d normally shy away from calling myself a Take That fan this is an amazing song to lift your spirits, and chase away the blues.

Enjoy!

I was reminded of Emma’s words and the theme of the poem when I was having a less than totally brilliant day yesterday, trying to fit too much in, running late and focusing on my time rather than the environment round about me.  I was driving down the motorway towards the Forth Road Bridge on my way back to Edinburgh.  Concentrating on the traffic and getting back to town in time for my next engagement.

Suddenly, as I came over the brow of the hill I could see a thick bank of fog sitting over the river.  The haar had been threatening all afternoon but this was fog: thick, white, rolling, a blanket that enveloped the road and the river.  And just over the top of the bank of the fog: the humps of the beautiful old Rail Bridge, graceful, brooding, like an ancient, eternal, goddess of the sea.

It took my breath away.  I can still feel my spine tingling as I write this now. 

I was driving, so I couldn’t stop, nor stare.  But I could, and did, stop my train of thoughts to notice what I saw.  Stop fretting for a moment to breathe in, and out, that feeling of total gratitude and appreciation for this stuff that just hides, and emerges, and unfolds in front of us.  Just when we need it the most.

I was gifted two such stories last week.  I got talking to a businesswoman and we drifted onto the subject of her family.  She told me a heart stopping story about the illness her young daughter was living with and the impact this had on their lives.  But it was a story told without self-pity, designed not to shock but simply to explain.  A tale not of sorrow but of courage and patience and love.  Laced with comic episodes and told with smiles, not tears.  I could only step back with wonder at the ability of this family, this woman, to transform a terrible experience into something positive, and good.

Later the same day I was chatting to a Big Issue vendor.  Just up from London he was keen to talk, trying to work out how best to engage with the Edinburgh shoppers.  His story was also a roller coaster affair, a reminder of how quickly life can unravel once one part of the marriage-work-home equation starts to unravel.  But this man was an optimist.  It was good to be in the fresh air of Edinburgh, selling in front of the Castle, looking across to the crags on Arthur’s Seat.  It would soon be Festival time.  He was a busker, a unicyclist, a juggler.  If he could just find the money to get his unicycle up here there was money to be made in the summer.  Always new balls to be thrown, a different tightrope to ride.

Two different faces of Edinburgh, two completely different stories.  What linked them together was the attitude of the story-tellers.  They had reframed what to most of us would be end of the world circumstances.  Chaos and catastrophe.  Things falling apart.  The end of life as we know it.  Taken that old story and transformed it into something new: a story of courage, and optimism, of persistence and love.  A belief in possibility.  Not looking back, never looking down: riding the tightrope of life.

‘Pacing yourself’ is a good mantra to hold onto whatever you’re doing, never mind a marathon.  In coaching and NLP we’re taught the importance of pacing another person to establish rapport.  But it’s just as important to pace yourself as other people – perhaps even more so if you’re to remain well, happy, balanced and able to support others.

Pacing yourself includes:

• Paying attention to your own experience without immediately trying to change it
• Taking your foot off the accelerator of growth and learning, and allowing yourself just to be
• Treating yourself as would another, including a dose of realism in your expectations
• Respecting your own model of the world: where you’re at, where you’ve come from, the distance travelled
• Accepting yourself the way you are: completely human, and completely perfect

And you know the funny thing is, when you slow down a bit, take the pressure off, just stop and take a breather… your motivation and energy will all return, stronger than ever, so you can keep on running, with a new spring in your step, ready for the finishing line.

It made me think of times when we, too, might feel like there’s a gap site, a wasteland, inside.  As if something has burned away, leaving a space, an emptiness, waiting to be filled.  Times when we know we have got to the end of one chapter and know it is time to start another, however blank the pages might appear. 

And it helped me remember that those times are precisely when life is most full of possibility. Of change.  Of potential.

Anyway, the message was that this friend and his family were going to "do a Joanna" this weekend, finishing on the Thursday evening and returning at leisure on Tuesday. 

The expression made me smile.  It seemed like a good way to be remembered

They ran a coaching project for 12 months last year and report a whole load of benefits, including a renewed focus on the experience of their customers and patients, improved communication between team members (including shorter but more regular briefing meetings) and an understanding of how important it is to look after their own health and welfare.  That includes organising the work so they’re in four days rather than five, with the extra day for them, their families, their health and their selves.  I’d say it’s brought huge benefits for patients too with a warm friendly atmosphere, good communication at all times and an emphasis on how things are from your end of the dentist’s chair, not theirs.

This was a great experience for me as a patient and I really felt the benefit of their coaching culture.  What  transformations could coaching bring to the places where you work, study or practice?  What differences could it make to places where you’re on the receiving end of services?

Spring is also the season of new possibilities.  A reminder of things that might be starting to stir and change within us.  The knowledge that it’s time for a change – even if we don’t quite know what that means – yet.

I found a wonderful quote that captures this mood – it was on one of Hilda Carroll’s ‘thoughts for the week’ (I love the way she puts these out to get us going going again after the weekend).  It’s from the writer Anais Nin:

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

If that sounds like you and you’re ready to take that step forward… or if you just want to take advantage of the power and the energy of the spring-time I am offering a special “spring into summer” tele-coaching package.  It’s a great opportunity to get you moving on your goals, your dreams, your ambitions.  To start tackling the things it’s long since time to clear away. To create the space for possibility and new growth.

Meantime, enjoy the start of May, the long weekend and the joy of watching the trees in blossom.

The study is based on the speed that pedestrians walk at – which they say is a good measure of the pace of life in a city. Going so much faster is not good news.  They reckon that people in fast moving cities are less likely to help other people and have higher rates of coronary heart disease.  The fastest moving city is Singapore – where they take 10.55 seconds to walk 60ft.  New York comes in at number 8 – slower than Dublin would you believe.  Edinburgh was reassuringly slow at 13.29 seconds.  You can find out the pace of life in your city here.

If you think you might be going too fast you can take the Quirkology test (by the guys that did the pace of life project).

And if you want to slow down… well it might be old-fashioned but why not try a remedy from Simon and Garfunkel.  The 59th Bridge Street Song’s been running through my head all day, ever since I read the story.  Guaranteed to make you slow down and smile… feeling groovy.

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy…

I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life I love you, all is groovy