Its all made up....

It was a Friday night in Singapore. We all met at an art opening where we enjoyed some fancy mock cocktails (non-alcoholic because our New Year’s resolutions are still in sight) and lots of excellent snacks. The room quickly filled with oddly dressed artists mixing with bankers in blue suites. Best of all for some, there was free wine: Always a good thing on Friday night to decompress from long work weeks. I was looking around feeling superiority over not drinking, watching others spilling their drinks, when I dropped the dribbly contents of some pastry wrapped delicacy down my shirt.

When the noise levels rose sufficiently, we were spoon on glass “tinged” into silence for a speech. There was lots of clapping and a few jokes, while the photographers ran around snapping shots of people’s nose hairs, and models dressed in tall black boots and black lipstick, smiled prettily. I reflected that it was a friendly gathering, and not too pretentious all things considered.  We even bought some art, well sort of. Like many other people there, we exercised an option to buy a few square feet of one of the several very large wall sized paintings. But we will all have to wait until late April, though, at which time our respective selections will be cut out of the canvas and sewn into handbags, document valises or a phone covers. Maybe this is the right way to treat modern art? Hope I can remember to pick up our document valise.

Eventually another couple and Irena and I settled down to a real dinner a short distance away in a river side eating establishment, owned and run by friends of our friends. A light breeze rolled in off the river waters, as we took in the boats full of tourists passing colorfully to and fro.  I had a moment of gratitude as I sipped my water, glad at that moment at least, that I was here and not in Canada where I would definitely not be just the right temperature in shirt sleeves. Eventually the conversation went from catching up with each other Christmas family events to what next”, or more accurately, “How now”. 

Of the four of us, one of us has cancer, mercifully not Irena nor I, and the other three of us are suffering from an acute cases of mid-fifties ambivalence. How in the world we have the temerity to be ambivalent about our lives when we are sitting next to a loved one struggling for life with cancer, I have no idea. But there I was, at least, I am embarrassed to say.

As we spoke of our choices, and I of my ambivalence about being back at work in Singapore, I had a blinding flash of the obvious. For a long time now, I have been trying to find my way back to the positive, proactive person I believe myself otherwise to be. But lately, I have been drowning in the negativity of my judgments  - judgements about the world, politics, The Banks, taxes - all the of the usual rants, whatever. Then I got it. It’s a choice, stupid! Like the section of art canvas we had selected an hour before, we all get to choose what part of the over all piece we choose to live with. We don't get to make the overall picture, but we do get to pick what part we want to own. At our age, we have enough experience and knowledge to justify being cynical. But does that help? We are all faced with a choice between cynicism and engagement. Why pick cynicism?

This week past I was facilitating a workshop on coaching skills. One of the models we were learning was about behavioural shifts, how we pass sequentially through a number of stages:  awareness -> acceptance -> skill development -> behavioural shift -> mastery. Well hello Awareness! Hello Acceptance! 

I think for many of us in our 50s, with the age of 60 looming, it is way too easy to slip into cynicism, by default, simply because we fail to be aware this is happening. And then we fail, therefore, to choose engagement. Since it’s all made up anyway, we might better chose to live inside a story of proactivity and optimism. In the words of Captain Kirk "Engage!"

What's that noise?

Somewhere between Fiji and Vanuatu, on passage, just another night on board Conversations...

“What’s that noise?” asks Matt.

He and I have been sitting idly in the cockpit digesting an excellent dinner of Dennis’ spaghetti and meatballs and Rita’s fresh baked scones. It was only a few minutes after sun down and already it was as pitch black as only a starless, moonless night can be at sea in tropical latitudes.

I knew what that noise was alright, because it was very familiar today. ‘It’s the beans we all had had for lunch.’ I said to myself. Earlier in the day, we had all agreed that being at sea is the only respectful place to each beans and garlic - lots of wind around. So we all had had a really good go at a guilt free lunch of garlic bean salad made by yours truly.

When Matt had disturbed my quiet introspection with his question, I had been quietly exercising my prerogative as delicately as I could, and I was darned if I was going to fess up. So I sat on in the dark pretending I was either dead or asleep. ‘Could be anything’ I said to myself.

“Hey Cress, what’s that noise?!” he asked more loudly, “What’s the heck’s going on in the galley”

‘Ahhh, I am in the clear’ I thought.

Yes, there was another familiar sound that had not really risen into my conscious until Matt’s question. I looked around the companionway opening and sure enough there was Bob working the galley sink with the plunger. And he was having a really good go at it with both hands on the plunger, apparently with no success. He's a pretty strong guy. The sink was making a very gratifying sucking sound under his ministrations, but not yielding.

I turned to Matt. “Just Bob having an after dinner treat” I said, “he’s plunging the sink.”

I turned back to watch over Bob’s shoulder for a moment longer as he worked away at the sink full of ‘tomatoey’ water splashing this way and that with no relief in sight. The girls had had a go at it earlier, apparently, equally without success. They had called in ‘a man’ to get the dirty job done. Hmmm.

“You know Bob”, I said as helpfully as I could leaning in the companionway, “You sure look like you know what you’re doing and all but have you tried plugging the other sink at the same time?”

“Yuppp” he said between pressed lips as he continued with ever greater more gusto.

I watched for another moment longer. I had never seen the galley sink plunged with such intention.
Hmmmm. "Now, I don’t pretend to be any expert, but it is my boat afterall and I do plunge that sink at least every other day and it yields a lot easier than that" I said helpfully“You know” I went on, “There must be something wrong”.

“Do you figure!” said Bob more loudly than usual, and trenched away with even more vigor

“Well.. yeah …. It’s not usually that….ummm, recalcitrant”

Finally, Bob stopped for a breath and leaned on the plunger staring at the slopping contents with great concentration, willing the answer to come, as if from the swill itself. Then his right hand let go of the plunger almost of its own accord and attacked the drain. His fingers were gouging the drain, fiercely determined to find the problem. ‘Here was a man of determination, not to be defeated by a mere galley sink.’ I thought approvingly.

There was a small cry of anguish from Bob. Out from the murk he hauled this big black object. Initially, in revulsion, I wondered ‘Where in gods great mercy did that horrible dark mass of muck come from?’

But I saw I was mistaken. It was the sink plug.

“What the….” sputterd Bob, but whatever he said was lost in the laughter from the cockpit. Even Dennis woke from his slumber to join in. Bob looked at the Rita and Jan in the galley beside him but they were not laughing. “I just assumed you had……..”

“Dibbs on tonight’s blogg” I said between tears of laughter, “that’s one for the books.”

Sitting in Singapore this Saturday morning, fond memories of crews and days past...

Cresswell

“Life is a daring adventure, or nothing.”

In a recent online conversation with Matt, he reminded about storytelling, and how it becomes a part of our personal story. Things that happen to us, get translated into stories we tell ourselves and others, and then they shape us. I first wrote this story, probably ten years of years ago.

“Life is a daring adventure, or nothing.”

So said Helen Keller, and I was about to prove it! This was it. I had built this little airplane and now had to fly it. No more excuses.

Looking through the spinning propeller of my un-flown, home built airplane, I contemplated the thousand metre runway lined up ahead. I was ready for takeoff. After two years of building, there was nothing to do but push down the throttle and fly, except maybe say a prayer: Please God, let me have tightened all the bolts and read the plans right!

I gripped the control stick in my sweaty hand, and rehearsed again: ‘Stick full back, release brakes, full throttle, stick forward, tail up, steer straight down the runway with the my feet on the rudder pedals until she lifts herself off, then climb out and watch the airspeed’... Right? I hope so.

It was time to fly. Okay, here we go! Stick back, release the brakes, full throttle (holy smokes, this thing accelerates fast), start forward pressure on stick ...... LIFTOFF!  ALREADY? In three seconds I was off the runway and pitched back in my seat as the airplane climbed out at a thirty degree angle. All I could see ahead was clear blue sky. I was too afraid to look back. I had never expected my harmless looking little airplane it to fly with such, well, enthusiasm! Like an unlikely rider on the back of a homesick angel, I hung on tight.

I thrilled at how she was handling, and was equally glad for the borrowed parachute strapped to my back. Eventually, I found the courage to steal a look at the sight of the airport shrinking below.  I gasped. It was gorgeous. Flying in an open cockpit for the first time in my life, I gushed over how clear and green the world looked without cockpit glass. I did a quick check of the instruments: A-Okay, I thought, but everything is happening more quickly than I had expected. Guess, I might just as well relax and enjoy the ride. Before I passed over the runway threshold, I was 300 metres feet above ground level.

I pushed the stick forward and throttled back into cruise attitude. I did some gentle turns. I stuck out my left arm to the feel the wind in the propeller blast and the airplane, all by itself, started a turn to the left! I stuck out my right arm and she turned to the right. More than just responsive, I thought. I let go of the controls and put both arms straight up out of the cockpit over my head in the wind stream. The airplane started a gentle decent. Perfect. I looked around at the mountains around me, the great Fraser River below, felt the sun and wind on my face and took in the open sky around and above. This is fantastic, I thought, a little scary, I admit, but fantastic. I took a big breath and thought to myself with a big smile, I think I am going to like this.”

This airplane was a ‘dream-come-true’ for me. I went on to fly it about 400 hours before I sold it. I had an engine failure, a minor crash landing, built floats for it, flew it cross country, cruised farmers’ fields and mountain tops, but nothing stands out in this “story” more than the first flight. I see there are many dreams we can seek out in our lives, whatever they are for each of us. And I see now how fulfilling one dream only leads to the next. “Now that I have done this, what else shall I try that I never before imaged was within my grasp?” The adventure of chasing our dreams changes us. We grow and learn. We become more of who we are. We find the things we dream about point to our gifts. And, one by one, as we bring our gifts into the world in our quest to fulfill our dreams, we find fulfillment and happiness. Our quest never ends, but our gains along the way buoy us. The world becomes bigger and smaller at the same time. Now all things are possible, limited only by the time we have to stride alive in the magic kingdom.

But of course, the question is how! All of us are prepared by childhood and our adult world to do what-we-are-supposed-to-do. Most of us must break free somehow, to seek our dreams. So how do we get to the head of the runway, metaphorically speaking, ready to take off for our dreams in the first place? This is a question I never tire of asking other dreamers – What have you done to get here with your dreams? And I get as many answers as people answering, but I do see some common themes in their stories.

For my part, I think the hardest part is getting to the point where we are capable of making the choice to set out in the first place. It was a big job building the airplane, for example, going from idea to flyable airplane. But once I and the airplane were ready, flying it, was easy, and fun too, though sometimes scary. So, I say, we get started by ‘building’ ourselves. We ‘are’ the airplane for flying into our life’s dreams.

“But that’s too obvious”, I can imagine some of you protesting, “We all know it’s about developing ourselves”. And it is obvious. But the problem is this; what passes for common sense in our world today has us developing too many things that hinder us and not enough of the things that help us make the choice to go for it! Or as the recently deceased Stephen Covey once said, we are climbing a ladder alright, but it’s leaning against the wrong wall!

How do we find our “right wall for our ladder, and then, how do we prepare ourselves to make the choice to climb it in the face of all the things we are otherwise “supposed-to-do”?

Questions, questions, questions!

Meanwhile, one of my next projects is to build and fly an airplane with a group of 15, or so, young Singaporeans in 2013. If you want to contribute in any way - with sponsorship, building space, $, participants -  whatever -  jump in!

Here is the advertisement:

Attention: Project 7Cs Take Flight is looking for 15 people to build and fly an airplane together as a team in 2013. No experience is necessary; just a determination to do extraordinary things for extraordinary results. For more details visit: www.sail7Cs.com/7cstakeflight.htm

Not interested in building an airplane? Come and hear Cresswell speak of his adventures anyway. VENUE Bluejaz Club, Singapore, February. See above link for details.

Companioinship on the Passage

This week another passage. 

Before dawn, I rise from my morning meditation in Singapore, pull on my pants and head into the predawn day. This week’s passage is not trivial, though it is just an overnight passage. It’s a passage across 13,000 kilometers, though it is one as effortless as reading. It’s a passage across the biggest ocean, and across most of a continent, though I will barely be called upon to so much as keep track of where we are until we arrive. It’s a passage half way around the planet in less than 24 hours, and I will barely lift a finger.

This morning I awake in my parent’s home. The furnace rumbling, the house still as the slow December dawn draws up night’s curtain on another day in the magical kingdom. Outside the window in the basement guest room the sky is pink in cold looking clouds. The stillness of the pond could easily be mistaken for ice. I sit this morning looking over the frosted backyard grass wondering why I was so weepy last night, not a quality I often experience in myself.

Am I weepy because I fear losing my parents? My Dad and Mom and I are feeling particularly vulnerable after Dad’s midnight ambulance ride to the hospital last week. Subsequent tests yesterday found nothing untoward, even confirmed his quadruple bypasses of three years all clear to be all clear. I do fear the approaching days when I will lose my parents, but that is not why I am weepy.

Am I weepy because I fear losing my friends? At the other end of this country, on Vancouver Island, friends struggle through the festive season with a course of radiation and chemo therapy to treat a recently discovered brain tumour. Mid way across the country, in Winnipeg, a family member battles lung cancer, with the same treatment. Home in Singapore, still another friend grapples with cancer, cancer of the liver. And so on. It seems this month, unhappily, too many of those whom I value are under threat. Am I weepy because I fear for my friends? No, I am weepy because, in the warmth of my parents’ home, I am to let down my guard and allow my feelings of overwhelm to rise, my feelings of sadness because I have been too far away from too many whom I love for too long.

This morning I remember that to be in the presence of those we love, is to be back in the presence of life. And to have death threatening at the back door makes sure I pay attention. To remember that we are never out of life or death’s reach, or love, it’s just that we are able to forget for a while when we fill up our lives with the stuff of striving. True, to live we must scratch together what we need in the scramble, but it is too easy to mistake the stuff we seek with what is important – connection, friendship, family – the many faces of love and life. Threat of death, is like a slap to the side of the head. Wake Up! Pay attention! Be in love! And I know Irena, on the other side of the planet, is receiving the same reminders as I.

The Seagull Has Landed (or rather seagulls)

Unbelievably, incredibly, magnificently, we are returning to Singapore! Yes, after 18 months of sailing 12,000 miles we are going to be right back where we started!
But the world is round. We all end up back where we started anyway, don’t we? And somehow, this time, we have found our way back to Singapore without sailing all the way back (which is a good thing). Our boat is safe and sound in Marmaris, Turkey at a marina for the winter and we will be flying to Singapore tomorrow.

Irena, as usual, led the way. She is going back to work in Singapore for Orion Health (this company acquired the HIS product that Irena worked with previously). Although Singapore will be her base, her job will involve a lot of travel throughout Asia, Europe and maybe even the Middle East.

And Cress will step back into his consulting business and get started on that new book! We know it will be a relatively  easy transition back into Singapore, and we are both ready for the excitement and stimulation of our work.

So, as the weather cools here in the Med, we are reflecting on the wonderful summer we had. Irena says it was a split personality summer for her – fabulous cruising with friends, fantastic food, great sights on the one hand. On the other hand, there was living with the uncertainty of where would we end up, when would we find work, would we find work. And Irena was, well, feeling uncertain. Up, down, up, down….sideways….

Cress on the other hand (according to Irena) just kind of cruised through the summer, so to speak, even keel, steady, calm, collected - with a sense of faith things would just work out. At least on the outside.

In fairness, Irena rode the job seeking rollercoaster. She was fielding the job applications, dealing with a couple of rejection letters (something she’s not used to at all!) and beginning to wonder if she was still employable. 

At 56 and 57 could we maybe even be past our prime in some employer’s eyes? Unthinkable! This, perhaps, was the most terrifying prospect for Cress - could it be that are anywhere near an age where the system would bar us simply because of age!

But no, Irena is not past her prime (or too old, which I hasten to add, she never was or will be)! She is in fact stepping into a senior role as Project Director with Orion Health. Well, we all know Irene has always been ‘The Director’ so now its official.

Cress is, mixed about the idea of going back. The good news is he will step back in where he left off, with his executive coaching and corporate training business. Plus writing. Boat deliveries. Skippering. The usual mix of suspects. And I am certain he is going to dream up a few new things as well!

So here we go- back to the heat, back to clean, green and safe Singapore. 

Ahhh, but Conversations – she will be in beautiful Marmaris, just waiting for us to steal away for a few weeks next summer. To infinity…. And beyond!