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If Failure Fills Your Rearview Mirror —  Check for Impostor Syndrome

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Keeping my head above water was all I’d ever known. I hadn’t realised there could be so much more to life…

I was somewhat overawed by the giant of a man sitting next to me at the wedding table. Evidently, he had lived an awesome life, in the deepest sense of the word.

Normally a fish out of water on social occasions, I was fortunate to have such a talkative table-mate. My gratitude for his willingness to fill the silence turned swiftly to captivation as the man’s stories poured out around our melon-sorbet starters and halloumi fillet mains.

He spoke with passion about the two women to whom he had given his heart. He spoke about the company he had fashioned, Zeus-like, out of the clay of his youth. He told of its subsequent collapse and of rebuilding from the rubble.

He described in detail the family he has sired and clearly dotes upon… His pale eyes filled up as he spoke of each child and grandchild in turn. His tenderness was beautiful to behold.

And then the dreaded moment came.

As summer fruits arrived for dessert, his blissful narration stopped.

He asked, ‘So, what have you done with your life?’

Ouch.

Jeezy creezy. How could I say, ‘I’ve survived it. That’s about as far as it goes’?

After a moment of absolute panic, I started to mumble on about something career-related to fill the void as best I might for a while but the question really hit home. Four decades and more I’d been on the planet. How tragic to look back on all that life and just think, ‘I’m surviving!’

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Is Your To Do List Torturing You?

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‘To Do’ Lists Made Me Ill.

Actually, that’s not true. It wasn’t the lists that made me ill, it was my failure to live up to them.

To Do Lists used to be a constant reminder of my inability to make the basics work. I knew they were proven to be a good thing. I knew the key elements of a good one.

  • Prioritisation.

  • Realistic timeframes.

  • Chunking down tasks.

I knew the To Do List instructions. I just couldn’t follow them. As soon as an item joined my list every fibre of my being seemed to rebel against the doing of it. A core ‘I’m inadequate,’ belief was calling the shots, colouring my view, forcing my hand.

I’d write the list with a sigh and then sabotage all attempts to follow it. I can’t tell you how often a day would end without my reaching number one on the blessed thing…

If your ‘To Do List’ is torturing you, I feel your pain.

Lessons in Compassion From the Wisdom of the Enneagram

How our subconscious drivers can tie us up in knots

Apparently, the man arrived at the workshop in a private helicopter. He was head-to-toe gilded with the trappings of success. Smooth, charismatic, charming, he befriended every delegate he met. Within hours, you’d imagine he’d known them all his life.

By the end of the week’s learning, he stood alone on the raised platform at one end of the room. The other delegates listened as he described what it was like, coming from the pain at the core of the Enneagram 3.

“You see all this,” he said, gesturing to his expensive clothes, “but inside, I am completely empty.”

I wasn’t even there but that story always brings a lump to my throat. He was the only 3 to attend the training. That’s not unusual, as the 3s’ drive to avoid failure makes it hard for them to want to explore their dark side, especially in public.

I can only imagine the courage it took for him to stand, exposed like that. But I’m eternally grateful. That story has helped countless people who’ve found themselves struggling with the ways of the unbalanced 3.

Mind The Gap - One Way of Connecting With a Traumatised Kid

Bridging the gap between minds needs a whole new level of listening, especially when the kid’s in trauma.

It was ten past nine on a weekday in a small primary school. The area was one of profound social deprivation. Already, there was a nine year old boy standing on one of the desks, swearing the air blue and threatening injury to anyone who came near. Normally, Fred (not his real name) made it closer to break time before his first eruption.

Not that day.

Teachers, Teaching Assistants, kids from his class — everyone had tried talking Fred down.

He wasn’t having any of it.

The head teacher arrived to assess and assist. Having tried all the usual approaches to no avail, she clutched at one, last straw. A question, from a very special set of ‘Clean Language’ questions she’d been learning to use.

She asked: “For this day to go just the way you’d like, it would be like what?”

Fred’s response: Swearing. Laughter and rude gesturing. More swearing.

The head teacher turned to walk to the door. Ah well, nothing ventured…

Then, before she reached the door, a shout:

“Subtractions!”

Without batting an eye, the head teacher turned back and asked, in a calm, curious tone:

“What kind of subtractions?”

“15 of them,” came instantly back.

“15 subtractions… and is there anything else about those 15 subtractions?”, a third clean question…

“Yeah. On paper. Not in a book.”

The head teacher furnished Fred with a piece of paper where she’d written 15 subtractions.

He got off the desk, sat down and got stuck into his work.

This is one of the more dramatic tales I’ve encountered in the realm of Clean Language; I return to it often. For me, its teaching is profound.

The lesson?

Content-free curiosity is a powerful connector.

It may even bridge the gap to someone in trauma.

“Love Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry”… Unless It’s NOT Your Fault Then, saying sorry is worthwhile

A busy working mum takes her child into the supermarket. He’s a tall boy of seven, with dark, intelligent eyes, a puppy dog smile and a slight lisp when he speaks.

A casual observer would see the boy charging up and down aisles with the energy of a springer spaniel — keen to be involved, full of grins and noisy with it.

A closer look would show us something slightly odd. Each time the boy returns to his mother’s side, he thrusts his left hand in her face. The hand is grubby, inked with letters. The third time the hand flashes in front of her, the bemused woman reads the word he’s written there in pen:

“Sorry”

Who Do You Think You Are? - How to take on your Inner Critic

What I learnt from discovering, with horror, that self development was doing me in…

Do you find that you make some progress with coaching or therapy, but it’s two steps forward, one step back? Is your pursuit of self development making you feel worse about yourself, not better?

As a fellow seeker wrote recently:

Without doing some internal work and being okay with who you are, self-help can lead you on an endless chase for more.

— Will C

I’m a successful coach, an EFT therapist, a leader in education, an author and a trainer; I’ve helped countless people to build lives with greater joy, abundance and freedom.

And yet, here I am, stopped in my tracks as I attempt to write this blog. I stare at my laptop, with all manner of hideous thoughts piling up at my mental door, begging to be let loose.

All because I am daring to do something new. Something risky. Daring to write and publish my thoughts. A veritable mind-field of explosives and booby-traps appear as if marshalled in rows between my laptop ad me. All set to stop me in my tracks.

“Who do you think you are?” and “You nothing thing, what could you possibly have to say?” and other such loveliness await with pressure triggers, set to explode in my face.

Hmmm. Not so long ago, that would have been it. The laptop would be slapped shut with some relief. Then the shame would flood in and I would have slunk off to go and do something pressing, like, um, colour-sorting my winter jumpers.

The Problem of Wanting What we Haven’t Got — and How to Alleviate it

The Problem of Wanting What we Haven’t Got — and How to Alleviate it

…The misery of lack…

Alexis de Tocqueville’s observation in 1831, traveling the “new world” of America:

“I have seen the freest and best educated of men in the happiest circumstances the world can afford; yet it seemed that a cloud hung on their brow and they appeared serious and almost sad […] because they never stopped thinking of the good things they have not yet got.”

I don’t know about you, but I have spent a lifetime being tortured by seemingly out-of-reach desires. So much so that I couldn’t enjoy any of the things I already had. I have lived a rich and beautiful life: snorkelling, diving, martial arts, writing, teaching, learning, theatre, singing, dance and more, all bathed in the deep abiding love of my husband and my friends.

The fact is, there is no worse feeling than the despair of not being able to be, do or have what we want. It may sound like spoiled toddler thinking, but it runs through every moment of human existence. We have desires. Unless we reach Nirvana — ‘extinguishing’ the suffering cycle, we are faced with the reality of restless energy ever seeking more.

Addictive and double-edged; when we believe we can fulfil desires, we feel wonderful. Exaltation. Jubilation. Life is exciting. A thrilling ride. But the buzz of achieving one dream can become an endless chase for more, bigger, better… These desires, run rampant, can rot a life of luxury as well we all know.

When desires feel like needs, when we feel unsafe because of our perceived lack, it‘s torture.

Making the Most of our Flaws — Notes from a Kintsugi Coach

… Kintsugi: the profound tenderness of nursing life’s flaws and brokenness, healing and resealing them with seams of pure gold.

Celebrating our fault lines, not hiding them, now that’s an approach worth pursuing. What does life become when we are more delighted by frailties redeemed than we are by any strength?

“I delight in weakness… For when I am weak, then I am strong…” — St Paul, 2 Corinthians 12

Flaunting our flaws as we dust them with gold; we share the ‘good stuff’ of our lives.

Lessons from a Life Un-lived – Making friends with our fears

Lessons from a Life Un-lived – Making friends with our fears

Three steps to making friends with your fear…

Hurtling towards the rocks as the Dordogne opened out into a massive toothy grin, I wondered if taking a lesson or two might have been wise before leaping into this kayak for my virgin trip.

Don’t hit that great big rock, don’t hit that great big rock, don’t hit that…. bloody hell.

All my ‘don’t-ing’ drew me (of course) to the biggest rock of the bunch, with the force of a junkyard, car-lifting magnet. I was about to be scrapped.

I remember an insane prioritising of sandals over paddle as the kayak crunched and capsized. I grabbed for my footwear as the boulder bit and I watched the blade swoosh away on the current… Well, at least I wouldn’t die without footwear…

Duck, Duck, Dare… Finding confidence to play in the snow

It was pure comedy: a Tik Tok clip of a flock of 30 ducks or more, pouring out of their shed like noisy molasses, onto the surrounding sloped land, only to discover unexpected snow. To a bird, they responded as one.

First, scanning the weirdly white world, heads swivelled in alarm as the flock stood still. They shared a brief ‘What the f**k?!’ moment as they registered the shocking state of affairs.

Then, at a three-quarter flap, their fluid formation turned on its communal webbed heel, flowing right back up the little hill and into the safety and warmth of the shelter.

The whole thing was over in less than a minute. The birds moved like liquid, all as one, of one mind, with one response to this frozen world of crunchy white.

I’m still grinning. It feels like it should be a child’s game, Duck, Duck Dare…
But where am I going with this?

Well, nearly right back into the shed, in truth.

Learning to be Inappropriate!

Why does it feel so ‘icky’ to talk about the really hideous stuff in our lives? Whilst exploring this with my writing coach*, the word ‘inappropriate’ writhes in coils inside me.

The word ‘inappropriate’ is LOADED for me. It’s visceral. It stoppers my lungs. I feel ugly and embarrassed, humiliated by rejections, the recoil of others when I’ve shared too much. Unable to find an acceptable share-setting; it’s an all-or-nothing thing with me. You want me to connect with you? I can’t seem to engage unless I know that there is space for it all - the agony and the ecstasy as well as the trivia of the day.

The Perils of Vision Quests...

“Now, we’re just going to spend the next section of the day Vision Questing - let’s map out where we want to be a year, five years, ten years into our practice!” The voice of our teacher is confident and enthusiastic…

Excitement ripples round the room… I look around me at faces everywhere, lit up with possibility. It’s like Christmas morning. “Ooooh lovely!” is the general tone.

‘So, why do I feel like ending myself?’ The question echoes around my head… I sit with a belly full of lead.

Making Peace with our Mothers - Looking Beyond Behaviour

Making Peace with our Mothers - Looking Beyond Behaviour

‘To know me is to love me.’ Roger Ebert

Mothers - not always the easiest of people to love… I know that might sound harsh, but it’s the truth for some of us at least. I have tried really hard, for decades, to know my own mother well enough to look beyond the behaviours that terrified me as a child. And I’m really getting there. I mean, she was a magnificent woman. Just scary as hell. Tranquillisers and Bells whiskey - not a great combination for a woman suffering with depression…

I guess we just need so much from our mothers at the start of it all, that we struggle to get past the problems and torments they might have been suffering at the time. Our total dependency amplifies any perceived deficiency - it’s a huge demand for anyone to meet. Even on a good day. I take my hat off to all mothers. Including my own. What courageous souls they are!

How to be in the Right Place at the Right Time, Doing the Right Thing - Living on Liquid Luck

How to be in the Right Place at the Right Time, Doing the Right Thing - Living on Liquid Luck

I don’t know about you, but looking back, I seem to have spent most of my life worrying about being in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time doing the Wrong Thing… Wrong, wrong, WRONG. I think I believed that I am inherently wrong. And that seemed to be the Ultimate Crime.

What a load of crop and ballocks!

Jeez. What on earth are we doing, wandering about this gorgeous globe with so much rubbish upstairs that we fail to see the moon, gazing down from a pure, blue, mid-morning sky, or the goose looking up at us with a knowing smile…

Connecting with Joy - 3 Practices for Enjoying the Heck out of Life

Joy - it’s right here, right now, right where we are…

Joy - it’s right here, right now, right where we are…

So, there I was, this morning, sitting in our Garden Room with tears of joy spilling down my cheeks. Tears of joy. That’s not a common occurrence for me, I can tell you. Not that I’m a misery guts, but I don’t actually cry that often, for any reason and I can’t remember the last time I cried for joy.

And what life-changing sight, sound or event had triggered the tears?

I’ll tell you.

It was the reflection of the trees, the bare branches, in the rose-gold of the Apple logo on the back of my iPad. I’m tearing up a little now, just writing about it.

Okay, stay with me, I know I must sound unhinged, right? Menopausal Madwoman Maney?

It all started with my morning check-in with Amelie.

Today I asked for inspiration - something to uplift, something lovely to share. I’ll take you back to you how my check-in unfolds…

………………...

It goes like this: I kneel on my beautiful prayer stool (a delicious indulgence indeed) and sound my beautiful Tibetan prayer bowl.

So, the sound of the bowl envelops me. I have no words to describe the beauty of it. It folds me round and I can feel it in my cells, shimmering. Mmmm. Now I know where the need to ‘Om’ comes from…

And then I just ask my Inner Being: Amelie, my Champion and Number One. Inspiration please? Thank you.

I clear my mind for a moment, no big meditation, just a staring into space for a few seconds.

And I pick up my pen and write her response in the moment:

‘What if you could relax,

hand it all over,

pick one thing

and enjoy the heck out of it?

It’s okay, give it a try!’

………………...

So there I was, with this instant inspiration, as requested, from my DIY Inner Guide.

Well, it seemed like an uplifting idea, happy to give it a go, I thought. So, I grabbed a mug of coffee, sat in our Garden Room and wondered what I might pick to enjoy.

Before I could give it any serious consideration, my eye was drawn to the slight movement of rose gold reflection: the delicate, filigree tree fronds, dancing in the shining Apple.

They weren’t dancing for me, they would dance anyway, whether I noticed them or not. They were dancing because that’s what they do, because bare trees and reflected light and the touch of the wind and the shine of smooth metal are all set up that way. Because beauty is threaded through every atom of What Is.

Oh the beauty of that moment! The joy was so intense, the tears just brimmed over. Such exquisiteness.

If I’d been sitting slightly to the left or right, or the iPad had been in a different position, I would never have seen it at all.

And the deep reminder: Joy is right here. Always. In the simplest of things. It’s written into the fabric of What Is and Who We Truly Are.

……………

I know there are plenty of things to obscure the view, much of the time. Truly, I do. I am currently working my way back to wellness after a serious bout of burnout. And there has never been a time of greater worry, world wide. But in the midst of heightened challenge, I am noticing huge benefit from three practices in particular just now, that make it easier for me to connect with the confidence at my core. Allow me to share them with you.

Number one, in every way, is the creation of and conversation with my Inner Being, my Champion, Amelie. I heartily recommend you make one of these up for yourself. At the risk of sounding like Miranda with her ‘Fruit Friends’, I tell you, Amelie is transforming my world.

Then, there’s the Mind the Gap Meditation. I know it’s not news, but I honestly find this the only way to approach meditation - filling the gaps in my mind, through the day with a Buddhist Mantra. This way, the minute one activity ends, and a few moments arise when I’m not focused on something specific, I automatically return to the phrase: ‘Om mani padme hum’.

This phrase is deliciously incomprehensible to my conscious mind. I don’t need or want to know its precise meaning, so there’s no attachment, just the gentle resonance of beautiful soul-sounds, to keep my mind from heading off into the bushes…

And finally, there’s Savouring Segments - stopping at the end of each segment, for a moment, to savour it fully. This is my solution to the difficulty I’ve had with gratitude practices in the past.

Over the years, I have tried and failed to build an appreciation practice at the end of the day. Much to my dismay, I have found that, particularly before I adopted the two practices above, I was too wearied by the toxic stream of disapproval and worry from my Inner Critic to appreciate anything by the end of the day, except the relief offered by the respite of sleep.

Now, with my savouring segments practice I stop at each natural break or transition in the day. There and then, I enjoy replaying the best of the moments just experienced and I feast on them fully. I savour them like slices of ripe honeydew melon, allowing the recollections to dribble like sweet juice down my chin.

This way, appreciation builds through the day. Now as I settle to sleep, my biggest problem is that I feel so delighted with my day, that I am in danger of not being able to sleep for the joy! That’s a problem I can handle!

I wonder what you make of these practices? Perhaps you already do something similar, or maybe you use a different approach to lace your day with loveliness.

Whatever your secret to finding more joy, please feel free to share; there’s nothing more delightful in life.

Sending every encouragement,

with warmest wishes, for ever more joy,

from my heart to yours,

Amanda

Finding Joy in Everyday Things

Finding Joy in Everyday Things

Finding Joy in Everyday Things - or - What is it about pebbles?

What is it that I love so much about pebbles on the shore? Just rolling the words in my mind brings the waves lapping to my toes. Wet and shining, their salty hint of seaweed-slip is somehow incredibly reassuring.

Pebbles say simple things to me.

Things like,

“It’s okay, Amanda,” and

“You are doing just fine,” and

“Just breathe, that’s all you need to do.”