Listen Up!

This blog has lurked around for a while, unpublished. I wasn't convinced it 'had legs'. So I want to thank Sukhvinder Pabial ( @sukhpabial ) for his joyous weekend blog Acapella Music and Pentatonix which reminded me why I penned this in the first place.

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I have started listening to music again.

"Why is this news?", I hear you ask. Maybe not of much import to or impact on you, but it's another step along my cardiac bypass recovery and readjustment path, and indeed, links to and supports another of my 'life themes', 'Look Up! See blog, "Things Are Looking Up"

I have grown to value silence. During my recovery, when I was not out walking and building up my stamina and strength, I spent a lot of my time alone during the day, as Mandy was at work and the children (young adults), albeit home for the holidays, were doing their own thing elsewhere. I 'switched off' from the noise of social media and any work-related activities.

And in this new-found silence, I resisted back-filling it. I only watched breakfast TV, and then switched everything 'noisy' off - no TV, no radio, no iPod/Pad/Phone, no stereo system (remember them?). On my walks, as well as 'looking up', I have been 'listening up', hearing birdsong, wind in branches, waves on pebble beaches, seagulls calling... And just taking it all in.

And I've been wondering why I haven't been inclined to listen to music. I have wide musical tastes (I shan't bore you by listing them) and have always enjoyed both recorded and live performances. So what changed?

I had to travel up to London on the train recently, and after being on the train for 10 minutes, I chastised myself for forgetting my earphones. And there it was! I didn't want to listen to music on my 'phone for the pleasure of listening to music itself - I wanted to drown out the intrusion of the chatter, laughter, crying children, leaking personal stereo headphones and incessant service announcements which permeate modern train travel. I was taken right back to my commuting days and the 'familiar bad feelings' associated therewith.

I realised that I had begun to associate music with an unpleasant experience by using it as a distraction, a disconnect, if you will, from that experience and the people around me and thereby I devalued something that has given my heart and soul much pleasure and comfort over the years. This realisation made me sad.

So I determined to lay the ghost and reconnect with my music. We have a large collection of CDs and online music. I decided to re-explore that collection and other sources - and write this blog. As I have written, revisited and edited, I have been accompanied throughout by music that I have not 'listened' to for a long time.

 

So Listen up - this blog is brought to you by the Philip Glass Ensemble, by the Michael Nyman Band, Jeff Lynne's ELO, Elton John and, right now, by The Eagles. But there is so much more to discover and enjoy out there.

I'm listening...!

New Normal

It's now just over six months since I had my triple coronary bypass operation and coming up to three months since I was made redundant. In what was already going to be a momentous year for me and the family (Mandy's 60th Birthday, Natasha's Graduation, Our 30th Wedding Anniversary and my own impending 60th Birthday), these two sudden and unexpected events have brought me up short and made me question what I do, how I do it and - critically - why I do it.

Unsurprisingly, it has taken all of these six months to get my head (and my heart) into and around these questions. In many respects, I have been given several gifts - more time, better health, incredible support, counselling and reflective space being just some of them - so I have not felt the need or the impetus to get back to the busy. In slow time, I have tried to shift my thinking from what do I NOT want to do any more (it's quite a long list!) to what really matters to me and what I want my 'New Normal' to be in the time I have left.

 

Truth to tell, having experienced the rest and peace that these six months have afforded me, I can visualise - and would be quite happy to start - retirement. Financially, that's not an option quite yet. But what is emerging looks like an initial 5-year Plan followed by another 20 years which will mostly be about standing on roundabouts, shouting at traffic...

Received wisdom nowadays is that 60 is not a great age to find oneself out of work and looking to find more. But here's where 'Niall's New Normal' has already kicked in; I'm not stressing or worrying myself about it. Life is - literally - too short to do that any more.

Things happen for a reason. Things present themselves when you are open to allowing them to so do. The Universe offers opportunities that you will miss if you're not paying attention, if you're not listening, if you're not present - if you're too busy trying to get back to how things were (and what caused the problem/s in the first place). Letting go and endings are as much a part of moving forward as are shaping futures.

As I have been clarifying my thinking about those futures and how I want to operate, how I feel about 'stuff' and how I think I can be useful, events have opened up which have been relevant and attuned to those thoughts. I have finally caught up with Jamil Quereshi's talk at September's 'LearningLive' conference. Much of what he said resonates strongly for me - particularly about changing thinking to change feeling to change action and how important it is for our lives to have meaning and purpose. I have been able to participate in several other conference, learning and networking events recently, mostly through my Personal Learning Network, professional associations and social media communities, all of which have spoken to me in significant and timely ways of how I can be in #newnormal - and out of these interactions are starting to emerge potential professional opportunities, none of which involve having a full-time, role and salary-defined responsibility, but which could be autonomous, developmental, fun and rewarding. That seems to me to be a good start for now...

Watch this space!

Ex-It

Recently, I've been updating my social media profiles. Mostly, this just involved adding "ex-" in front of my job/role description, because, in early September, my employer and I parted company after 10 years. This was a mutually-arrived-at decision, the discussion thereof having been postponed from May due to my sudden and unexpected cardiac bypass surgery and subsequent weeks of recovery.

All due process followed, I exited the business on the 7th of September and was able to 'go public' with my team and ex-colleagues and also with my peers and personal learning network at the Learning & Performance Institute 'LearningLive' conference a couple of weeks ago.
  
On Friday, I trudged up to the London office to return my ex-employer's laptop, Blackberry, passes, data sticks etc and pack up my few belongings and books for them to courier back home for me (I still can't lift heavy boxes, due to my bypass recovery). It was a bitter-sweet pleasure to see and chat with erstwhile colleagues Emma, Jennifer, Dominic and Lee and I managed to 'keep it together' right up until the final moment when I left the office for the last time.

I'm going to organise an off-site 'leaving 'do' in October for ex-workmates, and then, quite literally, my work is done. For now.

Because now I've got even more time to consider my future options. What have I learned? What will my new normal look and feel like? What do I want to do? (What don't I want to do?) What inspires and enthuses me? What's my proposition? What - and more importantly, who - matters? Who do I want to play with? Who wants to play with me? S'exciting.

Feel free to chat with me about any and/or all of the above, via the usual channels, or add a comment here. Thanks.

Heart and Soul

jordan mcqueen under CC0 1.0

Last Friday was a milestone in the ongoing story of my coronary bypass recovery, as it was exactly three months since my surgery - three months of steady, if slow, progress, rebuilding my strength and stamina. My scars are healing nicely, my walking distance is increasing and I am now starting to look towards returning to work. 

And I am also beginning to properly reflect on what the impacts have been and will be - on my family, on my friends and colleagues and on my future self. My own sense of self has been fundamentally challenged. I am not immortal! Despite years of good health and fitness, I have been ambushed by my own body and by the rapidity with which I was overtaken by angina symptoms, investigation, surgery and recovery.  In many respects, I feel as though I have been a passenger in all this, with the only 'control' or decision-making I had being no control at all - why would I say 'no' to surgery when it was made evident to me by the experts that I had serious, life-threatening heart disease and multiple coronary artery failures?

So now I find myself pondering such issues as Who am I? Where do I fit? What is my 'new normal' going to be? What's my role, function and purpose now and for the next 25 years, in relation to myself, my family, friends, acquaintances and colleagues? How do I go on from here - living and operating in my family, social, work and virtual lives? What does work look like now? What do I want? How selfish can/should I be? I'm now in the process of finding a talking therapy counsellor so I can start to explore some of this stuff - and whatever else may come up - with someone who is not involved in any of the above.

Coincidentally, all of this has got me pondering on the language we use - and mis-use - in thinking and talking about this sort of thing. I now firmly believe that my body, and more specifically, my heart, was talking to me long before I began to experience angina symptoms in April. I just wasn't actively listening to it. At various times in the last year, I knew that 'my heart wasn't in it', that I was 'heartily sick' of things (like moving house and commuting), that my 'heart's desire' was for some change to the routine and that it was becoming increasingly stressful to be at 'the heart of the action' at work, at home and in the virtual, social and professional arenas within which I was active. And my conclusion is that, in not paying proper attention to those emotional and physical voices, in continuing to push through ('cos that's what I do), I literally 'broke my heart'.

But now I'm fixed, now I've dodged the bullet, I shan't be so deaf to what my body, my gut, my heart's telling me. I shall wear my heart on my sleeve and look after myself better. I owe it to myself and to those who love and who have supported me through the last four months. Obviously, there are more conversations to be had, but there will be no more lip service to 'work/life balance'.  Onwards...!

PS: Are you listening to your body? Is your heart still in what you're doing and how you're doing it? Or does your heart ache? My advice would be to tune in before you tune out!

Heartfelt

Just over a month ago I had a triple coronary bypass operation and am currently signed off work for several more weeks as I recover. This all happened very quickly, as a result of experiencing some chest pain in April and attending the doctor to discuss.
 

An initial diagnosis of angina, followed by an ECG and blood tests, quickly led to a consultation with a cardiologist, an exploratory angiograph (x-ray of my heart) and revelation of the fact that not only had I had a heart attack late last year (whilst Mandy and I were in the throes of a very stressful house move) resulting in a completely blocked coronary artery, but also that two other arteries were in the process of closing up due to coronary heart disease and my heart was now struggling to function adequately, hence the chest pain. 
 

Needless to say, and on the advice of my cardiologist that I was otherwise sufficiently healthy and 'an ideal candidate', two days later I was under the knife in Southampton, blocked arteries bypassed with re-directed chest arteries and veins 'harvested' from my legs and, within the week, was despatched home for a three month recovery period.

This was a huge shock, not only to me, but to Mandy, recently started a new job, and to my children, both of whom were in the final stages of their University year work - Tash completing her Finals and Sam completing his Year 1 work. With very little time for reflection or for debate, my life was turned upside down and inside out. All my attention was now focussed on 'getting better', a slow process initially whilst my body was effectively in post-traumatic shock from very invasive surgery and it's only in the time that I have been given at home, as my body heals, that I have slowly started to reflect on the emotional and psychological impacts.

I'm fortunate that I experienced angina symptoms sufficiently noticeable to discuss with Mandy and, on her insistence, seek immediate medical advice. I'm equally fortunate that things moved swiftly thereafter (within two weeks, I had the procedure) and that - apparently - everything has gone well. I'm healing physically. My chest scar and my leg scars are healing and easing and my mobility and stamina is increasing.

But my sense of self has been fundamentally challenged. What I thought was normal, may not have been normal. I have been living and operating in my family, social, work and virtual lives with a ticking bomb in my chest. That may have been having far more profound psychological, emotional and physical impacts - and for longer - than I, my family, friends, acquaintances and colleagues may have realised.  It's only now, a month later, that I am starting to 'allow' myself to consider these things and to reflect on what they mean for us now and in the future.  Much reflection and possibly some talking therapy to come. What's important? What's not so important? What does the 25 years that I've been given by this operation look like? How shall I/we spend that time? What does work and retirement look like now? 

We have much to be joyful about. I'm still here! Tash achieved a 2:1 BA in Interior Architecture & Design and graduates in late July, before starting her new job in August. Sam got straight B's throughout his Foundation Year and is guaranteed a place on the BA Film Production course at UCA in Farnham. Mandy is enjoying her new job in Brighton. Both Mandy and I turn 60 this year and it is also our 30th Wedding Anniversary in August. 

Previous readers may remember I blogged nearly four years ago about turning 56 and outliving my Father who died just after his 56th Birthday ("Age - Appropriate"). I said then that I had been gifted the time he never got and that I was going to make the most of it. Now, three years and one coronary bypass later, I have been given another gift. I do not intend to squander it.

PS: I could not have got through the last 5 weeks, nor will I get through the months to come, without the love, support, friendship and good wishes of many, many people, not least my darling wife Mandy and my two fantastic children, Natasha and Samuel. I love them and owe them everything, but my heartfelt thanks go out to you all.

Fear of Swimming

I had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with Caroline Walmsley (@carowalmsley), CEO of Brightwave, last week and we had a wide-ranging conversation about learning, learners, L&D, vendors and the ambiguous spaces betwixt and between them.

We talked about the shift that's happening in learning, the shift that's making learners, trainers and vendors take a good look at themselves and their current and future skill needs. And we wondered why so many of us are finding it difficult to evolve our thinking and our practice to keep up with, and stay ahead of, these changes.  We talked about arrogance and we talked about fear. 

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And I was reminded of learning to swim. I remembered going to swimming lesson at Paisley Baths when I was 8 or 9 years old. I remembered the panic of trying to keep my head above water, to stay in the world above the surface, the belief that I would not be able to breathe if my head went under the surface. The result of that thinking, of course, was that I spent all the time in swimming lessons struggling to 'stay alive' and paid no heed whatsoever to learning the techniques and thereby discovering the fun to be had in swimming.

That fear stayed with me for years. I denied myself the pleasure and the benefits of swimming, despite the many opportunities available to me, well into my late teens. When I did eventually - with the encouragement of friends and colleagues - learn to swim, it was still not with the unbridled joy and abandon that I saw in others. I was staying afloat, my feet were finally 'off the bottom', but I was still essentially expending all my energy in trying to keep my head above water.

And then, at the age of 22, I went to Corfu with my best pal for my first ever foreign holiday. I was determined that I would swim in the Mediterranean. Any Mike brought a snorkle and goggles. That combination of factors finally released me from the fear. At one and the same time, I found I was able to swim AND get my head under the water, whilst still breathing! It was a transformative experience. Not only did I not die, but the world underneath the surface was beautiful. I was surrounded by fish, I was 'flying' over an undersea landscape of forms and shapes and colours I had never imagined. I loved it.

And when I lifted my head back out of the water, I was a quarter of a mile away from the shore. I was a swimmer! (I panicked at that point, but had the sense to stick my head back under the water, and follow the undersea slope back to the beach - learning in action!)

That's what I think those of us engaged in UK Learning PLC need to do. We need to stop struggling to stay alive in the safe world we've always known, to put all our energies into keeping our heads above the water. We need to be brave, to find a way of getting our heads under the surface, to see the world of possibilities open to us, whilst realising that not only can we survive in that space, but we can develop new skills and have fun at the same time. We can operate in more learning environments than we think.

So, feel the fear and do it anyway. Stick your head under the surface, have a good look round and, in the immortal words of 'Dory' from the Disney Pixar film 'Finding Nemo', "just keep swimming, swimming swimming..."

MOOCs and Me

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via FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I mentioned MOOCs to one of my team last week and was met with a blank stare and inevitable follow-up question - "What's a MOOC?" Other than being able to tell her that a MOOC is a 'Massive Open Online Course', I didn't have a lot to say about them.
 

"Hang on", I hear you cry. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of Learning & Development Techie Manager, or something like that? Aren't you supposed to know about all this stuff?"

 

Fair point. You'd think that with a job title of Head of Technology Assisted Learning, I'd know everything you'd need to know about Learning Technologies and MOOCs and the like, wouldn't you? Well, as I say in my Social Media profiles, "I know a little about a lot and a lot about very little". And MOOCs is one of the areas about which I know very little! That's why I accepted Isobel Nancarrow's invitation to join the LinkedIn Group "Explore Social: Massive Open Online Courses" (here) and write a blog.

 

I know what MOOCs are. I kind of understand the way they work. I know and respect several people who have organised and run MOOCs. I have actually been interested in some of the topics they cover...

 

So why then have I not joined in and done one yet? What's stopping me from getting involved? I figure that if I have barriers - and I am an L&D professional with an interest in technology and social media - then exploring what they might be and then getting over them, may help others both within the profession and potential MOOC learners, to understand and reflect on their engagement with MOOCs.

 

Let's start with information overload. There so many online websites and networking groups presenting and sharing great content from so many enlightened - and some not so - professionals, that I struggle to take it all in. I have a day job; I'm a husband and a Dad; we're still unpacking and settling into our new home, 6 months on. I do my best to keep up - twitter (tweeting and tweetchats), LinkedIn, Google+, facebook, Pinterest, blogs and blogging, conferences/unconferences; I've just downloaded onto my Kindle two free training books by Paul Matthews at People Alchemy...  aaarrrggghhhh! And now I've got to make time to do MOOCs as well?

 

"What about your commuting time?" I hear you ask. "Surely you got time and space to do some more development then?". Well, apart from the 'no wifi on the train' response, there's also 'my time for reflection' (or 'sleep', as I have come to know it over the years).

 

All that said, I have accepted the invitation to write this blog; I have checked into the associated LinkedIn Group site and, from there, I have also enrolled in the Curatr MOOC, "Exploring Social Learning" (sign up here), so that I can learn more about MOOCs. It looks like a four-week commitment of around two hours per week, apparently. I've now completed the Onboarding and the Curating My Contributions modules and can now start Week 1's content.

 

I have dipped my toes in the water. I'm starting to see some possibilities; for example, creating and facilitating a digital/social media skills course for my L&D colleagues and others across the business. It's early days. I shall report back as my learning experience in this MOOC progresses.