connection

Dreaming of the miracle that is you.

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Last month, I had one of the most vivid dreams I’ve experienced in years. The background to this dream is that here at home, we have a compost heap. And a month ago, on top of the compost there were old apples from a tree in the garden and wasps feasting.

In the dream, I saw the same compost heap but it was covered with old blankets. And while I didn’t know why the blankets were there, I did know that somehow I had to uncover it, without sending the wasps into a frenzy. Apprehensive but determined to do it, I took a deep breath and walked purposefully down the garden path.

Very quietly, gently, firmly, I took hold of one corner of one of the blanket and began to peel it away. And as I did, I heard a sudden fluttering of insects wings. I flinched. Turned away with my eyes tightly shut, expecting at any second to be stung. But it didn’t happen, the fluttering stop, I couldn’t hear any furious buzzing. So very slowly I turned back to the heap and was rendered speechless by what I discovered. For the compost – and all the wasps – had disappeared, and instead there was a clear surface made of dark shiny wood and it was completely covered with butterflies. Hundreds of them.

But these weren’t ordinary butterflies. While they were as ethereal and ephemeral as butterflies, shared the same delicate structure and were the same size, these little creatures represented every animal on earth. A miniature ark. As they fluttered one by one (rather than two by two), my eyes alighted on a tiny giraffe, a tiny elephant, a tiny lion, a tiny wolf, a tiny buffalo. All butterfly-like. Down the back of the garden on a wooden stage.

I was delighted. I felt lit up. And still felt that way when I awoke. I don’t always write my dreams down, but I did with this one and it has lingered during these past 4 weeks.

Last night, before I went to sleep, I came across a TED talk by cinematographer Louie Schwartzberg on the hidden beauty of pollination. You will find it below. Please, watch it before you leave. It’s only 7 minutes.

Today, walking home from a conversation about death with a group of wonderful people (it sounds grim, but was far from it) I found myself thinking about how miraculous life is. Recently I watched a presentation (online) given by one of my heroes, Sir Ken Robinson. In it, he suggests (and you can tell he really does find this miraculous) that we all just stop for a moment and consider how many people had to connect, down through the generations, in order for each one of us to be here. Think about your own family tree, how many people had to meet in order for you to be here.

This past month, I’ve found myself quite fascinated by quantum physics, quantum biology, astrophysics and astronomy. And so this evening, I’ve been thinking about how miraculous it is that I am, you are, not only a part of a family tree, but a part of this tree of life. If you consider the universe (I’ll admit that’s easier said than done) and imagine yourself on its outer most edge, then zoom in through space to this pale blue dot of a planet, home to an estimated 11 million species and 6.9 billion humans and the stage for a 4.55 billion year history of life on earth, how mind-bogglingly, goosebumpingly, light-a-fire-in-your-belly miraculous it is that you are here. You. Are. Alive.

Sit with that for a moment. The miracle that is you. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Feel it. In your body, in your mind, in your heart. In your soul.

How does it feel?

Let me know, I’d love to hear from you.

 

Don’t worry, try these 5 things and be happi(er).

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A pentatonic scale is a musical scale with five notes per octave. Apparently it is very common and found all over the world. The brilliant Bobby McFerrin (of ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’ fame) illustrated the universal nature of the pentatonic scale in this delightful little experiment at the World Science Festival 2009. I highly recommend that you watch it. Three minutes of your time, it is informative and it will make you smile.

Bobby McFerrin at the World Science Festival

Speaking of making you smile and being happy, recently I watched (am I beginning to sound like I spend all my time watching online presentations?) a fascinating TED talk by statistician Nic Marks on the Happy Planet Index. Essentially, he is looking at alternative measure of progress which measure how happy people are and how happy the planet is, i.e. alternative to measures such as the GDP which arguably measure everything except that which makes life worthwhile.

However what really captured my attention was Nic talking about the project he undertook a couple of years ago for the U.K. Government Office of Science and their evidence based Foresight programme. Basically his organisation, the New Economics Foundation, was asked to come up with 5 positive actions you can do to improve your life. Not, as he says the secrets of happiness, but the things that he thinks happiness will flow out the side from.

And they are…

Connect. With your loved ones. Invest time in your social relationships.

Be active. Go outside and walk. Get up and dance around the room.

Take notice. Are you aware of the seasons changing? Are you aware of your self?

Keep learning. It doesn’t have to be formal. Be curious.

Give. The fact of the matter is, we feel good if we give.

So, as I finish writing this just before the stroke of midnight and the beginning of Friday, I have five questions for you:

How have you connected with the people you care about this week?

Have you gone for a walk? Danced? Skipped?

What have you noticed? Been aware of ? Outside and within?

Have you learned something new?

How have you given?

Five things we can do from which happiness may flow. Five notes on a happiness scale.

The university works in mysterious ways

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In the early 90s I studied law and art history at university. Art history because I loved art. The law, because I was advised by my career advisor at school to not just study art history.

I spent five and half years at uni and for the most part, wondered what the hell I was doing. There was no burning desire to be a lawyer. Nor, for that matter, did I want to pursue a career in the history of art. I nearly flagged the whole thing several times to pursue fashion design but didn’t. Partly because I couldn’t sew, in part because of the family pressure (and to be honest my own self imposed pressure) to finish a law degree.

I can still remember sitting in the law library looking around at all those self-assured young people, who seemed to know exactly who they were and what they doing and feeling an almost overwhelming sense of discomfort in my own skin. I had no sense of the direction in which my life was heading.

I’m not sure how many people were in my year of law school, hundreds I guess. Obviously, there were many I passed daily in a corridor and yet never had a conversation with. One in particular haunted me for all my years at uni, because she appeared to be everything I wished I was.

Lucinda (not her real name) exuded confidence. She was beautiful, smart and popular. Striding through the law school, she wore floaty flowery skirts in the summertime and trailed the scent of some expensive French perfume behind her. I would look at her, with gritted teeth, and just know that she would go on to be an extremely successful lawyer, marry an extremely lawyer, have beautiful children and live in a beautiful house.

Years passed. I found myself guiding media around a yet to be opened Te Papa. Participating in a disaster relief effort in India. Making a documentary film. Having lunch with a famous author in New York. And today, I found myself in the same street as Lucinda. At least I’m 99.9% sure it was her.

And because this is 2010 and you can find anything on the internet, I’ve discovered that just as I anticipated, she is indeed an extremely successful lawyer, has married one and has children. I’m going to continue to assume that they’re beautiful and that their house is too. I’ll even throw in an Audi wagon and a labrador for good measure.

Was I surprised to see Lucinda in the street? Of course. But what surprised me even more was my own reaction. Not one of discomfort, but absolute delight.

Because it might have taken me a whole lot longer than Lucinda the Confident, but today I am truly comfortable in my own skin. I love what I do, I know who I am, I have found my voice. And although I may not have a floaty, flowery skirt in my wardrobe, I’m wearing the prototypes of my own clothing range and trailing the scent of a beautiful English perfume.

Connecting the dots

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Trying to ignore the noise the kitten is making chasing bugs on the window sill, fingers poised on the keyboard, I am full of questions and one in particular is demanding my attention. Why should I start blogging? Each day it seems, I come across another excellent blog with someone who has something informative, entertaining or downright inspirational to say. So why me?

Because actually this is about you. This is about connecting you. To amazing people, to their stories, to very cool and sustainable ‘stuff’ and transformative services.

I believe that a big piece of  this planetary puzzle we’re all a part of, is people who care about each other and the planet, doing what they’re good at and doing what they love. Being, as the marvelous Sir Ken Robinson would say, in their element.

I’m in my element connecting people. Connecting people to each other, to goods and services which I (and more to the point other people who know far more about these things than I do) believe will make a contribution to restoring the planet.

Recently I watched Steve Job’s commencement speech at Stanford in 2005. He talks about connecting the dots and how so often, it’s only in retrospect that we can connect them.  For me, the challenge and the joy, is in figuring out how to connect some of the dots as we look forward.

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