Week Minded

Highdown Hill, West Sussex - Photo NJG

It's Friday, one of my non-work days. With some time to myself, I've been reflecting on how it's gone.

What's been happening? How did I show up? Did I learn anything? Did I apply any of that learning? 

Well, yes and no.

Being present in social media channels means that one gets exposed to a lot of noise. Sometimes I contribute to that noise; sometimes, I hope, helpfully.

The week started off really well, with my weekly walk and talk with my Counsellor followed by my continuing to walk further, exploring local pathways not previously walked, but trusting my sense of direction and following the waymarks. In total, some 10k in uncharteristically glorious weather, the benefits of which for my mental and physical wellbeing lasted well into Tuesday. Joyous.

This week also saw two "[insert cause/subject here] Week" campaigns which are both areas of personal interest to me - "Learning at Work Week" (#LAWW21) and "Dementia Action Week" (#DAWW21). 

One of my professional bodies (for whom I work part-time) is an active sponsor of LAWW and we have discussed and acted on this both internally as a team and in our support for the HR, L&D and OD profession externally.

This blog is my activity recognising that, enabling me to reflect on and share what I've learned this week.

It's also Dementia Action Week, a cause close to my heart, for family reasons. I'm a research volunteer for the Join Dementia Research (@BeatDementia) programme, and have been contributing to their online studies since 2014. A few weeks ago, they asked their volunteer community of study participants if they would be prepared to be interviewed to share their story of how and why they got involved. I was selected, interviewed and my story was published this week, as part of their DAW campaign, here: "Making a difference through online research studies".

My hope is that people reading it may be prompted to get involved themselves and thereby add to the data which will hopefully speed understanding about and prevention or cure of this cruel disease.

Then on Wednesday morning, I learned from a friend on facebook that another friend from my college days back in 73-76 had died suddenly of an aneurism. A year younger than me, a wife, grandmother, photographer, generous sharer and all-round lovely person, her death hit me quite hard. 

I've spent a lot of time in the last few months discussing and sorting out my and Mandy's end-of-life admin - Lasting Powers of Attorney, Wills, Funeral Plans - and, having survived heart surgery myself six years ago, death has been much on my mind. Sheila's death and her family's loss really brought this to the fore.

Wednesday was probably the low point of my week. Thursday, however, was satisfyingly clear-minded, focussed and productive.

And here we are, it's Friday already, and today I chose not to join in the weekly 08:00 am #LDinsight tweetchat with my #PLN (Personal Learning Network), and had a long lie and leisurely breakfast instead.

So, what, if anything, did I learn this week?

It's good to to talk | Sometimes you don't need to have a clear destination in mind and you can just enjoy the journey for itself and for whatever physical and mental nourishment it provides | It's OK to have a down day; don't beat yourself up about it | You don't always have to show up; the world will keep turning.

Have a great weekend, folks.

Treading Purposefully

I took myself off for a long walk 'up-country' on Friday last week, with the intention of putting some kilometres under my boots without worrying about who else was around or was likely to cause me any concerns (see last week's blog). 

I was able to walk from home up into the South Downs National Park and National Trust land, and westward from there into the flatlands beyond the village of Angmering.

For four and a half hours, I walked into the wind and away from the day-to-day niggling concerns and worries which seem to predominate my thinking nowadays.

And the way I was able to do that was to follow pathways hitherto unexplored by me, but helpfully - and literally - mapped out for me in the Ordnance Survey map in my hand.

Much of the walk towards and into Angmering, I knew already. From there on, I relied on the map to take me further.

And I still went wrong almost immediately. The pathway wasn't as clear on the ground (up a side street) as it appeared to be on the map. 

But I was reminded that "a map is not the territory" (mathematician Alfred Korzybski, 1931). So I back-tracked, without giving myself a hard time about it, and essentially 'got back on track', mindful of something @CraigTaylor74 said on a map-reading and navigation exploration day a couple of years ago, "The landscape is never wrong".

Further on, back in the open countryside, I got to a point where I could turn left or right to start the farthest North/South leg of my walk before turning back East again. I had a choice to make - right (North) or left (South). Consulting the map, I went North, following the more interesting track indicated, around and between ponds and forest, until I found myself back in Angmering, where, once again, I got slightly lost in a housing estate.

But my sense of direction is good and I completed the circular part of my walk and had a wee break again in Angmering, before setting off for the final leg back home over known and previously-walked paths, with renewed intent and, despite tired legs, at a decent pace.

When I got home, I was invigorated and pleased to realise that both during my walk, and afterwards, my mind had quietened; that the volume of the  'noise' which usually accompanies me on shorter, local walks, had been turned down and I felt more at peace with myself.

The difference between walking just to get out of the house (Covid wandering) and walking with intent, albeit without a geographical destination in mind other than coming back home, and supported by a map and compass by which to navigate, was considerably more significant that I had realised.

My internal, noisy map had been taking over my wanderings. By navigating with intent and appropriate tools, I was able to focus on the landscape, looking up (there it is again!) and enjoying the physical and mental benefits of being in nature in those moments.

To steal from someone else again, "When map and terrain differ, follow the terrain".*

* fs blog

Walking and Looking

Today I went for a walk in West Sussex with a pal, to somewhere I've not been before, Burton Mill Pond.  It was (is, still, as I write) a beautiful, warm, if windy, Autumn day. We walked in sunshine and in dappled shade, a gentle level(ish) walk of only 3.5k. And I loved it.

Along the way, I took some photos on my mobile phone, a habit I've developed when I'm out and about. I've shared some already on facebook and Twitter.

Folks who know me here or through social media, will be aware that I've recently taken to arriving early in London for professional and/or networking events and, using an app called 'WalkIt', have been meandering the byways and hidden paths of London as a reflective and non-stressful way of getting there and, more importantly, arriving, calmly and mindfully.

I've also taken photos on my mobile during these walks and posted them on Twitter as I journeyed on, using the hashtag #LookUp. This has become something of a mantra for me, more so since my heart surgery and subsequent events. But it's not new. I first suggested that people would benefit from 'looking up', lifting their eyes from the pavement or just eye level itself, and looking around or indeed, up, in a blog post in July 2011 called Things Are Looking Up!, inspired by a holiday in Northumbria.

 

Nowadays, in our rush to get somewhere, or in our inability to lift our eyes from our mobile devices, we are diminished by not connecting with each other or with our immediate surroundings. Granted, British streets can generally be a bit samey, a bit mundane; the same shop fronts, fast-food outlets, newsagent chains etc.

But when we look up above, we can see history in architecture, lives in windows and beauty in nature.

An ex-colleague and valued friend, James Dalton (@jimdalton) posted a piece on LinkedIn this afternoon, Connecting to Reality, wherein he commented about how disconnected from each other and our surroundings we seem to be, and he encouraged everyone to go outside, sit in the sun, Look Up, feel the warmth of the sun and the breeze on our faces. I couldn't agree more.

But I will suggest here that the mobile phone camera may also be a way of reconnecting - with our surroundings, with our environment, with other people - by taking and sharing your photos. What did you see when you looked up? What spoke to you? What was revealed to you when you did that?. How did you feel? Who would you like to share that with? How would you like to share it with them - Twitter, facebook, a blog post?

Don't let tech become the excuse for disconnecting. Use it to see things differently, from another perspective, connect with that moment, that place or that thing, even if just for the few seconds that it takes to shoot the picture or shoot that video clip. It will remind you of that moment when you revisit them. And, if and when you share them, you will be offering some of that experience, that reflection, that learning, to others.

That's got to be a good thing, hasn't it?

P.S: Those photos are also a resource bank for that next presentation you have to give.  Instead of using clip art or stock photos, give your presentations authenticity by using your own photos as the visuals or the slide backgrounds. Reinforce your messages with images which speak from your heart. Make your audience Look Up!