Tiramisu means pick me up and yesterday, the chocolatey creamy coffee spongey ever so slightly boozy goodness of it all did just that. The making as much as the eating. A Saturday afternoon spent gathering ingredients, measuring, mixing, dipping, tasting. Drinking tea and leisurely taking photographs as I cooked. Listening to Miles Davis and A Kind of Blue. Thank you tiramisu, you did indeed pick me up. Here’s to seeing you, and hearing your friend Miles, in my kitchen again sometime soon.

It has now been just over a week since my dog Maggie took her last breath and each night I have lit a candle and for a few moments contemplated a photo of her sitting happily in a stream. For seven nights, I have held Maggie gently, briefly but with full attention, in my thoughts and acknowledged how important this lovely animal was – and still is – to me. How grateful I am for her presence in my life.

I’ve found this to be quite illuminating. Because it occurs to me that not only would it be wise to, but I want to, do this for people and four legged friends who are still very much alive. How easy it is to become consumed by the busyness of life and take the ones we love for granted. Very clichéd but very true.

So from tonight, I’m developing a new habit. I’m beginning a new ritual. Every night, along with cleaning my teeth and writing tomorrow’s to do list, I will light a candle. I will hold the face of someone who is dear to me (and there are so many of you) in my thoughts and I will wish you well.

I’m doing well, thank you.

While working through the brand story process for ElementAll last year, I asked  a friend of mine who is an IT guru but also a self confessed word geek, to consider the notes and moodboards I’d developed and respond with the words and images they evoked. He came back with, amongst other things, the image of a lioness walking through grasslands and the sound of her padding feet creating the mantra go-do-be, go-do-be, go-do-be.

Which is pretty much what the last few years have been about for me. Being. I have gone, done and most of all, been.

As I explained in a recent post entitled Four Wings on a Dragonfly, introducing a recipe for balance, my recent past has been about exploring and developing. I have always been an advocate for having time to be. I have, as I also explained in that post, not been a huge fan of planning. Preferring, to focus first and foremost on ‘being’ and let the doing evolve out of that.

The beauty of my life unfolding in way which has allowed me to ‘be’ and having the freedom to consciously choose to have time and space to do that, is that I now know who I am. However the question which immediate follows in my mind is ‘So what do I do with me now that I know who she is?…’

And that’s where the planning and doing comes in. The be-go-do becomes go-do-be. Where once the doing and going flowed from the being, in order to be me, I now need to go and do.

Go-d0-be, go-do-be, go-do-be.

How do you do?

Tell me, I’d love to know.

The first time I met Maggie, she was so fearful that the vet at the rescue centre in Sydney had to carry her in to me. No-one knows why she was abandoned as a 1 year old border collie, and while she came to me bearing no physical scars from abuse, for the first 3 weeks she would flinch whenever anyone tried to pat her.

I rescued Maggie while I was working in international animal welfare. Spending my days observing animal cruelty and neglect, campaigning for humane treatment across cultures and continents. There were so many animals we couldn’t save, certainly none that I could personally save, Maggie was one I could.

Back at home after a long day of campaigning against bear bile farming in China, returning to Sydney after watching bears dancing in Pakistan, I would drift off to sleep at night to the sound of Maggie snoring softly, peacefully, at the foot of my bed. She brought me enormous comfort. But now, it is my turn to bring her comfort.

Although she is now an older girl of 10, and a little wobbly in her back arthritic legs, I had expected her to be with us for a few more years. But over the last three days she has become increasingly unwell to the point that yesterday, we had to carry her into the vet from the car. A series of tests reveals that she is in chronic kidney failure and there is nothing to be done. Michael, Maggie’s wonderful vet, has suggested that we wait until tomorrow and do another set of blood tests to confirm that she is terminally ill. I suspect that’s more about giving us time than anything else.

We’ve been through a lot over the last 9 years, Maggie and me.

When I lived in Sydney, I had to child proof the freezer. Wondering why she was getting fatter, it tuned out she’d figured out how to open the freezer door and had been helping herself to boxes of fish fingers and loaves of bread.

When we moved back to Wellington, after Dad died, she so often sat quietly with her head on my knees as I worked my way through the grieving process.

During the last years she has lived with Mum. Border collies are super smart and they require plenty of mental stimulation, so staying with Mum and the other canine and feline members of the family on a half acre section, proved to be much the best option for her. But each week, I’ve been out to visit her and we’ve sat on the floor and had a chat.

Maggie has a very unusual habit of talking, and she’s only every done it with me. A noise which sounds like something between a growl, a purr, and a cow mooing. I don’t know what she’s saying, but every time without fail, I’d sit on the ground, she’d lie beside me and we’d talk.

We have but one or two conversations left. I’m about to go down to the vet practice and sit with her on the floor of a consulting room, after they’ve closed for appointments. And even if she doesn’t have enough energy to growl, purr or moo, I know that Maggie and I are saying farewell.

I’ve spent the last two years exploring, thinking and developing. Concept development. Self-development. Brainstorming. Big picture stuff. And it’s been great. Fantastic, in fact. But now it’s time for action. And because this action involves several projects and a fair amount of juggling, I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out how I’m doing to do it. How to embark on 2011 without feeling faintly (or not so faintly) overwhelmed.

Four wings on a dragonfly

I’ll let you into a secret. I don’t, personally, like planning. Determining the strategic way forward for me.

Without analysing it in depth, as a child, rational thinking was the holy grail of behavior, both at school and at home. Law school taught me to be even more logical. And yet somewhere along the way, I began to subtly resent and resist this expectation to value reason above emotion and instinct. Having made choices at crossroads I wouldn’t have made if I was listening to my intuition, I began to allow myself to feel my way through things. I’m good at helping other people plan, but I don’t like doing it myself.

Or I didn’t, until about a week ago when I reluctantly, then almost joyfully came to the realisation that doing both is a mighty fine idea. You need both for balance, you need both wings to fly. And in my case, I need four. Like a dragonfly. Such beautiful, brilliantly aerodynamic little creatures.

Just a few years ago, Dr Jim Usherwood and Dr Fritz-Olaf Lehmann from the Royal Veterinary College and University of Ulm used a specially designed robot dragonfly to examine the aerodynamics of four winged flight and they found that “two pairs of wings can allow the dragonfly to produce higher forces, allowing acceleration and climbing, while, if the wings flap with the right timing, the lower wings are able to reduce the energy wasted.”

If my top two wings are reason and emotion (logic and instinct) then the lower two are connection and kindness. Reason and instinct may help me soar, but being connected and kind (to myself and others) reduces the amount of energy I waste.

Connected

This is about being connected to myself and others and nature. It may sounds little ‘self-helpy’ but in order for me to ‘produce high forces’ (sticking with the dragonfly analogy above) I need to be in my element, connected with my sense of purpose, my gifts and passion. And I need to be connected to others and with nature. I cannot, and simply do not want to, do it all by myself. Where’s the fun in that?… Besides, I’m part of a family, a community, an eco-system and my piece is simply one part of a glorious global puzzle.

Kindness

There are numerous quotes on kindness, but this one from the Dalai Lama is a favourite…“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples: no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temples; the philosophy is kindness.”

Most of us know, and are taught as children, to be kind to others. But being taught to be kind to ourselves is not, I think, as common. How many of us have much higher expectations of ourselves than we have of others? Are much harder on ourselves than we are on others? Although it seems contradictory, I’m finding that being kind to myself, accepting that there will be a days where sitting on the balcony with a cup of tea replaces the exercise hour, is an essential ingredient of my recipe for balance.

A recipe for balance

If the four wings on a dragonfly is the analogy which works for me, then I also have a recipe for balance which seems to be working well. But I’ve gone on long enough for today. I’ll take you through my ingredient list and method for balance, in the next post. In the meantime, let me leave you with David Attenborough and a dragonfly in slow motion.

Last night, I finished reading Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard by Chip and Dan Heath. An excellent book about how to effect transformative change, which I would recommend to anybody looking at change, be it at a personal, social or organisational level. I may wax on about it at a later date but what am I am still reeling from, and experiencing a kind of Truman Show-esque moment as a result of, is a single paragraph which has managed to null and void a ‘truth’ I’ve held for many years.

In a nutshell, Switch is about how we each have a rider and an elephant. The rider is our rational, analytical self in charge of the reins, the elephant is our emotional, instinctual side which is quite capable of thundering off leaving the rider out of control. The argument, and a well researched one, is that effecting transformative change in any context requires both the rider and the elephant to be engaged and the path to be shaped so that the change is as engaging and easy as possible.

A brief mention of psychiatric and psychological treatment of addicts is made in the context of emotion motivating the elephant. Which emotions work best. Do you need a ‘crisis’ and a sense of fear and doom to motivate change?

Apparently, until fairly recently it was believed by most therapists that drug addicts or alcoholics couldn’t be helped until they hit rock bottom. And that has certainly been my understanding. Without going into detail, one of my relatives is an alcoholic. In numerous discussions over the years with older family members, close family friends and medical professionals, it has been stated with authority that the addict needs to hit rock bottom in order to want treatment.

Well, as it turns out, that’s not the case. Holy ravioli Batman.

I’ve wondered about this whole ‘rock bottom’ thing at numerous times over the years. It’s a shitty place to be, for everybody concerned. But in my experience, if you have someone well respected, of authority, telling you something over and over and over again, however much your instinct is telling you that there might be other versions of the story, you ending up buying it.

I ordered Switch for professional reasons. I’m fascinated by change. Why do people change? How do you ‘shape the path’ to motivate and facilitate it? Within the context of my work, Chip and Dan’s book has provided some extremely useful advice. But it’s also caused me to stop in my tracks and consider what are the other things I’ve held to be True which actually might not be?…

Having finished Switch, I’ve moved onto Seth Godin’s Linchpin. Although I’m only 23 pages in, the pages I’ve read have reinforced this sense of suddenly walking through a door and finding the world to be bigger, brighter and full of possibilities I haven’t previously considered.

Basically, Seth’s point so far is that we were all hunters, then farmers, then factory workers, but the factory has fallen apart and the system we’ve had for the last 200 years is on the way out. And to be honest, I think that’s ripsnortingly (I’m not sure there is such a word, although if there isn’t, there should be) exciting. Because it means we can go out and explore, ask questions and develop new ways of educating our children, new ways of doing business, new ways of healing people.

Anyone else had a Truman moment recently?

No, that’s not a typo. Yesterday, I sat down with a friend to pencil some dates into each month of this calendar year and 2011 passed before our very eyes. Whoosh. Just like that, 2011, gone. Hello 2012.

Just now, I’ve been sending out a series of email invitations to a number of events in early February. And after hitting the ‘send’ button, I had this disconcerting sense of a pale grey fog out there in the ether, made up of anxiety, a touch of panic, a splash of overwhelmed. All wrapped up in expectations we have of ourselves and those we believe others have of us.

Has life always been this crazy? Is it simply that I’m getting older and it really does get ‘worse’ every year? Or are things becoming increasingly feverish? I suspect it’s the latter.

We’re constantly connected to information asking us to do something. To read, to think, to respond, to juggle – even if it’s just our attention. I skived off to a movie today (says she, still mostly on holiday) and the majority of people in the theatre were women over 65, at a guess. Women with one eye and ear on the screen, one eye on their iPhone and one ear on the friend sitting beside them.

It’s only the 5th of January, but even now, a part of me wants to shout out at the top of my lungs ‘Stop the clock!!!!’ Which is ironic given that my watch stopped the week before Christmas.

In these very first few days of January, I’ve found myself prefacing emails by saying ‘I hope you are at least a little rested’… I’ve a sense from talking with people and reading their comments in social media, that actually they’re not nearly as well rested as they’d like.

Almost everyone I talk with has made a New Years resolution to lead a more balanced life this year. The vast majority of people I know are counting the few days off over Christmas as the first holiday they’ve had for a year. And that leaves them beginning the year, batteries not recharged, already feeling faintly overwhelmed.

I don’t really have an answer to this Big Question of how to maintain a sense balance as we rush headlong into another year, all I can say is this…

To those of you out there who have recently been on the receiving end of an invitation from me. You can say no, you know.

To Christine, who I sat with on the verandah on Christmas Day eating raspberries and talking about how we should catch up more often this year, let’s do that… Coffee soon? A cooking demo at Elements?

To my yoga mat, I will endeavour to see you every day, even if it’s just for 10 minutes.

And to my watch, well, perhaps you can remain stopped just a little bit longer.

A series of words and images. More stream of consciousness than anything else, they are reflective of that delicious lazy post Christmas, pre NYE haze, which I sincerely hope you are all enjoying too.

Claude, the ginger von tuffty who takes himself slightly too seriously, sitting at the front door on Christmas morning. The lovely Christine and Willie arrived soon after, bringing a bottle of bubbly which we drank sitting on the verandah, accompanied by chocolate bread, crème fraiche and fresh raspberries.

Lunch the day after Boxing Day. After too much, well, everything. This met the need for something light and fresh. Asparagus feathers, squash, zucchini, roast onion, goats feta, fresh mint and parsley with a drizzle of lemon infused extra virgin olive oil.

I’m still on my quest to create easy recipes including turmeric. For those of you who didn’t read the relevant earlier post, turmeric is excellent for the brain. Curcumin, the active ingredient, breaks down the build up of a particular protein which is increasingly linked to Alzheimer’s and as one with more than a fair share of that ghastly disease in my family, I keep a close eye on what’s happening in that field of research. Anyway, here is this morning’s smoothie.

A cup of brown rice milk, but you could of course use cow’s milk, soy, almond etc. A banana and a handful of strawberries. A teaspoon of turmeric. The seeds from 3 cardamon pods. A tablespoon of agave but honey would do equally well. And tablespoon of cacao nibs. You could easily do without the last item – actually, you could probably do without the strawberries as well, but there were a few slightly manky ones in the fridge which needed to be used.

I met Beth from Boston in Costa Rica last year and since then we have caught up in once in person and several times via skype. Beth has had me doubled over with belly-aching laughter more than once. Don’t mention the yodelling pickle… She sent me the following image this morning, having rediscovered it amongst pictures taken on her iPhone. She can’t remember where it is from, but it’s gentle and thought provoking and so I’m sharing it with you too.

Finally, speaking of words, I’m going to leave the last few to the wonderful T.S. Eliot. Another treasured friend made in the Costa Rican rainforest was Randy from New England. He included some of these beautiful words from T.S. Eliot in an email just before Christmas. If you’d like to read the complete poem, here is the link http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always—

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flames are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.

T.S. Eliot, “Four Quartets”

Yesterday, I went to the dentist. I’ve been putting it off. After two bouts of orthodontic treatment in my life (one as an adult) and countless dental visits in between, rather than developing a high threshold of pain with respect to my teeth, it seems to be getting lower. And so I had a sneaking, or not so sneaking, suspicion that my time in the dentist’s chair would be uncomfortable.

I’d reluctantly made the appointment because I have a small crack in one tooth and although I could have probably continued chewing on one side for another month, I felt compelled to go. A decision I questioned as I lay back in the chair, one side of my face numb, with tears rolling down my cheeks.

Let’s face it, it’s the end of the year and I’m kind of running on empty. I’m pre-menstrual. There was a full lunar eclipse yesterday and the equinox. Factors which may have resulted in my inability to sit in the dentist’s chair and reign in my sensitivity.

But what made it even more difficult for me to control what I was feeling, was the look of confusion and unease on the face of my dentist. Here I was trying to explain that it wasn’t about her but that I was premenstrual, tired and had a low threshold of dental pain due to years of treatment (fortunately I restrained myself from mentioning the planetary alignment) and she looked totally mystified. So much so, that as I left the practice, I found myself apologising to her for being so pathetic.

It was only as I drove back in town afterwards, that I thought ‘Geez, what’s with that?!’ Just because I’ve been given a shot of anaesthetic, doesn’t mean I’m not going to feel anything at all. Maybe it will numb the nerves immediately surrounding the affected tooth, but it doesn’t desensitize my whole person to the sheer discomfort of the procedure or the memory of years of dental pain.

The irony is that I chose this dentist because she has a reputation for a more holistic approach. There is no doubt that she is a very good dentist. I didn’t feel a thing in the tooth she was focussing on. But the point is that I did feel and then felt silly for feeling and being honest about it and then felt faintly outraged with myself for feeling silly.

There have been a number of times in my life where I’ve been criticised for being sensitive. I don’t want my behavior to make people feel uneasy or for it to impact negatively on my ability to do the job, but here’s the thing… I am sensitive. I have a fairly high level of empathy and self-awareness. If my mind and body send signals of discomfort, I’m going to pay attention. And quite simply, sensitivity is part of who I am. I think it’s an important tool in my kit as a mentor, communicator and connector.

So after years of feeling like I need to somehow switch off my sensitivity  in order to be effective and if that didn’t work, apologise profusely, I’m beginning to embrace it. I’ll let you know how that works out.

This afternoon I listened to a talk given by evolutionary biologist and futurist, Dr Elisabet Sahtouris. The subject of the talk, given at the Schumacher College in England, was ‘How to live better on a hotter planet’. Not surprisingly, it outlined many of the challenges we’re facing and touched on strategies for living better on a planet which will be several degrees hotter by the end of the century. But it was also full of hope.

There is no doubt that we are indeed facing enormous challenges. A ‘hot age’, peak oil, economic collapse. But as other young, competitive and creative species have evolved and survived when faced with a global crisis/opportunity, so too can we.

I was fascinated to learn that our behavior closely mirrors that of the ancient bacteria which dominated the planet during the the first 4 billion years of life on earth. Like us, they were then young, highly competitive and creative. They are the only life form other than humans to have caused global hunger and pollution. And yet they survived by solving those problems through innovative technology. Those tiny little organisms harnessed solar energy, developed a motor system and created a global system of information exchange, a world wide web. They learned to cooperate and they formed colonies.

The nano world, which exists within us and without us, is an extraordinary one. Each one of us is made up of 100 trillion cells. You are the current residence of hundreds of trillions of bacteria, descendants of those ancient micro-organisms which billions of years ago faced many of the global challenges we face now. If they figured out how to survive and thrive, then surely we can too.

Contrary to the belief of some people, competition is not the only modus operandi in Nature. Yes, young species compete like crazy to spread their seed to become established. But what lasts is that which exists harmoniously within its community. Cooperation and collaboration are key strategies for species that survive over the long haul.

I grew up watching David Attenborough docos and the fact that those films may be as close as my goddaughter ever gets to big cats when she grows up, makes me sad in ways I cannot articulate. I clench my teeth when I learn that since 1950, 90% of the big fish stock have been depleted because of industrialized fishing. In these moments, my heart aches and my eyes are downcast. But these moments are increasingly few and far between. They’re being replaced by sparkling eyes and a light heart. Why?…

Because, like those clever little bacteria that used flagella to zip around the planet 4 billion years ago, we’re evolving. And we have a world wide web connecting super smart and very good people who want to collaborate and live together, in nature, in harmony.

So, if occasionally you find yourself overwhelmed by the magnitude of the crisis we’re facing, then let your heart be lightened by the fact that all over the world there are people remembering ancient ways of living and developing new technologies to help our species evolve. And that our world wide web is connecting millions of people, each one of them made up of 100 trillions cells of hope.

If you would like to learn more of what Dr Sahtouris has to to say on how to live better on a hotter planet, go to http://www.schumachercollege.org.uk/community/open-evening-with-elisabet-sahtouris