friends

Generosity

/ beaumontmichael

 

One of the characteristics I truly admire is the capacity for generosity. By that I mean a person’s ability to be generous not just with their money, and of course that’s nice, but with their time, their patience and their humility. Generosity of spirit is one of those attributes that has an incalculable effect.

We probably all know people who do not have it. They are mean with their praise, stingy with their money, tough on those around them, bold about their own ambitions at the cost and sometimes even the exclusion of those close to them. I certainly know a few. They often attract people to them lacking in their own self-esteem which is just awful to watch. Often they see value in money spent on themselves and see no value regarding money spent on others. For example, they may be happy to spend money on an overseas adventure but shake their head when their partner wants to buy some new shoes. It makes me cross when I see it. I understand that it is rooted in their history, and isn’t something that just springs from nowhere. But that understanding doesn’t make the behaviour any more palatable.

IMG_0331Being generous most often costs nothing. Saying something nice costs nothing nor does being generous with your time. Underpinning someone else’s self esteem generally costs nothing. We all of us have self-doubt. Some are riddled with it, some have fleeting moments of it. People that lack generosity of spirit seem to enjoy being in the company of people who are racked with self doubt. I guess it makes them feel better, but it makes it all the more difficult when one is forced into the role of spectator. Perhaps it has something to do with propping up their own self-image by surrounding themselves with people that are needier than they are, I’m not sure.

We can all be more generous of course. We could give more to great charities, we could spare a few dollars here or there to people in real need. But equally important, we can all help people around us achieve great things by supporting them with time and energy. Sometimes all it takes to push through a task is the verbal support of someone close to you.

Think about that for a moment. When was the last time you went out of your way to help someone, with no ulterior motive. Could you do more to help other people? Is there something simple you could do that may have a big effect on someone else’s life? Sometimes this requires people to step outside their comfort zone and talk with people close to them in a way they have not done before, but how tough can that be really? Go on, I dare you, put yourself out there a little for someone else and see how you feel about that.

Being generous is such a lovely thing to be able to be.

I’m writing a book

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

 

I have finished the first draft of a book about how to record your family history and family stories. The proofreader is about to do their stuff. Some people have warned me about “selling the farm” in terms of writing a book about what I do, but the way I have got it figured, I couldn’t possibly record all the worthwhile stories out there in ten lifetimes so it is a better idea to show people how to do it themselves.

I have almost settled on a title. I can’t believe how difficult that has been. Every few days another better title pops into my brain and rattles around for a while. If you or someone you know would like to receive an E version of the book before it is published, for free, let me know. Simply send me an email I would be happy to send it to them. michael@thelifelogproject.com.au

The proof should be back in a fortnight so I will email it out to anyone interested. I have really enjoyed writing it and it has forced me to go right back to the start and truly think through the entire process which has been great fun. While it is clearly not as simple as pointing an iPhone at someone, it can almost be as simple as that. The book shares interview skills, tips on interviewing particular types of people, question lists, equipment for recording, how to get started, even some parenting tips in there.

For anyone interested in how best to gather their family stories before it is too late to do it, this book will help you for sure. With Mothers Day just past, a Life Log would be a perfect present for a new mum.

I got help when I needed it.

/ beaumontmichael

11179998_896819233693389_486530138_nThis coming weekend marks eight years since my scooter accident. It was something of a defining moment for me, as it is remains the only time I have come close to death. Though I didn’t walk away, there was very little blood and almost no lasting physical damage. You hear it all the time, “I was so lucky” but that was me. Riding down a highway at 80kms and have some goose pull out of a side street right into you is quite an experience.

Flashing through my mind was, no, no, no you couldn’t be that stupid! But he was. My big 500cc Yamaha Tmax scooter was firmly wedged under the front of his car as I was thrown up and over the bonnet, just clipping the front wind shield enough to put my body into a spin, in flight, before it hit the road with a whack and a bounce or two.

I said there was almost no lasting physical damage but it did do my head in, for a while. My knees got a hell of a bashing which required many weeks of physio. My bride was kind enough to ferry me around to appointments. It soon became apparent that I was damaged psychologically by the event perhaps more than physically. Sitting in the passenger seat, I flinched badly every time someone tried to enter from a side street on the left, or aggressively merged. I felt the need to swear at them and even wanted to get out and punch them if they were too rude. Pretty silly stuff.

A few weeks of this and Anna suggested I get some help. At first I was a little bit insulted. That lasted until the next intersection. My GP gave me a referral to a local psychologist and in the blink of an eye I was on a six-week program of counselling. This was, hands down, the best thing I have ever been cajoled into doing.

The psych and I dealt with the entire accident in about one and a half visits. So then we moved on to other areas of my life I felt could benefit from airing. I gave her both barrels over the next few weeks and by the end of the six-week program I felt almost completely unburdened for the first time in my memory. It was such a liberating feeling I can remember people smiling at me in the street as i walked by, because clearly I was smiling at them. That had never happened to me before.

So it has been eight years since I found the space to move on from stuff (events, history, people) that wasn’t very good in my life, but didn’t need to define me. It was so liberating to discover that. If it hadn’t been for that horribly scary scooter accident in the Blue Mountains, I wouldn’t be as happy as I am today. Counter intuitive I know, but that’s the rub.

Needless to say, I would encourage anyone to seek out counselling. It was a life changer for me.

Why move to the country?

/ beaumontmichael / 4 Comments

 

A dear friend of mine questioned my desire to move to the country. She wondered why I would deliberately move to an environment that required more work and more energy at a time in my life when perhaps most people are planning to do the opposite. So Im guessing others may be equally perplexed.

I have lived in the city all of my life, and in this little terrace house for more than thirty years as a promise my bride and I made to each other to give our children a sense of community while they grew up. Both my bride and I grew up in military families and moved every few years so that made sense to both of us. Living inner city has provided us with many great advantages in that time. We can walk to any one of 200 restaurants, thirty cafes, half a dozen pubs and several parks. We can walk to work in the centre of the city.

The down side of that is the housing prices have risen to the point that few people can afford to own their own property which means a largely transient population. The very community that we once insisted upon has reduced in size and almost vanished. A smattering of local housing com, pretty much ensures a steady supply of pretty badly behaved kids and a few druggies.

We have seen escalating development in our area that also reduces the amenity. Though it is years ago now, we had building work going on next door every day of the week for three years. The development behind us during the week and the next door neighbours on the weekends. That process tested my patience but also reminded me that my sense of peace and quiet is totally in the hands of my neighbours.

I have become completely disconnected with the natural world. It really worries me that I can pick up a piece of fruit or a vegetable in the supermarket and I can’t really tell you where or how it was grown or what it looked like on the tree or vine or bush that it came from. I find that really embarrassing.

Though living inner city is pretty cool sometimes and certainly very convenient, it is noisy and buzzing and never stops. When you are thirty that’s pretty cool but when you are fifty it is as bit of a nuisance really. My nights in the country, sitting on a log playing music, looking up at a million stars as the fire crackles is so fulfilling and peaceful that my heart fills with love for the world again.

Learning how to grow food, plant vegetables and fruit, fence and all the other farming skills is another bonus for me as I really crave learning new things. There are so many things that absolutely terrify me about the country too and I’m not brushing them under the carpet by any means but it holds a mystery for me that I can’t let go unquenched. ( I think I have just mixed a metaphor there, but you get my point Im sure)

It may prove in the end that I have left my run too late. I really hope that is not the case. I hope I get twenty years in the country on my beautiful elevated hundred acres and that those twenty years are full of hard work and adventures that I will be able to write about in my dotage. Does that make any sense to anyone? It does to me.

Noreen

/ beaumontmichael

Voice from the past
From time to time I hear someone speak or they raise a subject with me that reminds me instantly of my old mum. She passed away 25 years ago, but every now and again her memory charges back to me like a rampaging bull or a wintery chill. Other things trigger her memory even more efficiently. The smell of nail polish remover evokes her memory instantly. Any discussion around hats has the same effect. My grandmother used to make my mum a new hat every week to wear to church.
My mother worked as a teacher’s aide at a school for people with learning difficulties. Conversations around art, learning styles, schools, and teachers also often evoke a memory. If you have had a parent pass away you probably have a similar list of evocative things.
The memory of my old mum is one of the reasons I set up “The Life Log Project”. No doubt everyone has had a conversation around the best way to die, or some way you don’t want to die. Well, my mum had a cerebral haemorrhage while she was in the doctor’s surgery. She effectively died right there and then, but was kept alive by machines for a few days.
The nature of her death meant that there was plenty of stuff that went unanswered. I still get sad about it. She loved her grandchildren with a real passion. The biggest smile on her face would arrive as her little grandchildren entered a room, or did something kooky. Every one of her grandchildren would have benefitted from her being around, and that’s a shame. They are all now grown ups.
She was also pretty good at issuing advice. That bit I really do miss.
If I had been able to record a Life Log with my mother I would have included some questions about advice for her children and grandchildren. That would have been a beautiful thing to listen to. One of the other things I miss, is simply hearing her lovely voice. My old mum spoke beautifully. She came from honest working class Newcastle, her dad was a plumber, but she spoke beautifully. I really miss just hearing her speak.

The Rookies

/ beaumontmichael

I am about to embark on my favourite weekend of the year. The State Rookies finals at Raymond Terrace. Lawn Bowls is a game that is often marred by the image of old people in whites pitching a bowl from the hips because of their lack of flexibility, and nothing could be further from the truth, particularly this weekend. Though the game has long been viewed as a retirement sport (which it certainly can be) this weekend will be quite different to that.

To be eligible to be a “rookie” one must not have played for longer that 30 months. Last year we had a young 14-year-old make the finals, and we regularly have juniors make the state finals and two years ago (I think, but it may well have been three) we had a chap well into his eighties. I am pretty sure he would have beaten me a foot race around the block, he was amazing.

To make the state finals, these people will all have won their respective area (or zone as we call them) championships so they are all champions in their own right. They then travel to Raymond Terrace for a weekend of finals action in the hope of being crowned the state champion.

I love the weekend of competition for a number of reasons not the least of which is, I once played in the state finals about one million years ago. But more importantly I love it because here you have players full of love for the game, full of passion for the promise of future success.

We will crown another state champion in both singles and pairs by Sunday and we will also have fifteen singles players and 15 pairs that will know the taste of defeat. Some will be happy to have just got as far as the finals. Some will be fortunate enough to have the trophy in their sights, perhaps even make the final only to fall at the last hurdle. It will be gut wrenching, exciting, painful and it will be wonderful to be a part of it.

As a sports administrator it doesn’t get too much better than this weekend. We get the opportunity to inculcate and educate the next generation of champions, the next generation of club presidents and administrators. In essence we will be setting the scene for the future of the sport for the next ten years perhaps even longer. If we do it well, the sport benefits in the long-term immeasurably. If we stuff it up, well, we wont stuff it up.

We have a great team that works hard on events like these and they all look forward to this rookies event in particular. Simply being around players that have such a love for the game and a yearning for the competition cannot fail to rub off on you. Every member of our team returns from the Rookies weekend tired but also exhilarated and refreshed from the experience as we are reminded what an integral role we play in the future of our sport. Cannot wait.

This year we will be live streaming the event. 10 hours each day Saturday and Sunday, for more information check out the Bowls NSW website. http://www.bowlsnsw.com.au

Who should pay for my children?

/ beaumontmichael

It is apparent that several politicians here in Australia believe that we should be paying for their children. With recent stories about pollies claiming for rock concert tickets for their children as legitimate expenses and business class air travel for holidays and special events. I have had a quick look at the makeup of the “independent” tribunal set up to have a look at politicians entitlements, and frankly I think there are too many politicians on the tribunal to give me any confidence that this will change substantially.

Ultimately we are responsible of course because we keep voting for them. It has often been said that we get the politicians we deserve. Uh oh.

I don’t know how many of you would have travelled in ‘business class’ when you were children, certainly not me. I have only done it once as an adult (and loved it). The idea that it is ok to have your children travel business class and have someone else pick up the tab, someone you do not know, is outrageous. I don’t care if it is within the rules, it is not OK, ok?

It is clear that several of our politicians need help in the “what is OK?” category, so I thought it might be useful if we came up with a test that they could use. Some might say that a test should be completely unnecessary and that pollies should just have a moral compass and exercise it. I may agree with that in principle, but it is quite clear that many don’t have one, and the ownership of one is rooted in the idea that pollies are like the rest of us. Clearly that is a leap in logic, a jump too far.

So what sort of test is reasonable? What about something like, “if I run it by the bloke at the local servo, and he says “you are kidding, right?” then that may work. Maybe it needs to be a little more ‘third person’ along the lines of “I know this guy, and he was thinking of taking a holiday with his kids and going to a live concert, and we were all going to travel business class, and then we were going to send the bill to someone else, but not tell them, what do you think? Would that be Ok?”

Then the politician could wait a while as the bloke at the servo loads his gun, or grabs a filleting knife, or whatever self-protection mechanism he has at his disposal behind the counter and brandishes it with menace.

Yeah I think that works better. Not even our thick-skinned, rudderless politicians could be in doubt about that.

Ultimately though, we are responsible. we keep turning up, we keep relying on the absurd party system in this country to select the best candidates and then we keep voting for these people. The very notion of putting my faith in either party is worrying me, a lot. As utterly annoying as this is though, it could be worse, we could be preparing to vote in the USA I guess.

Note. Michael is the curator of the Life Log Project in Sydney Australia. To learn more go to http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au

Ah the critics.

/ beaumontmichael

I shied away from writing for about thirty years following my formal education. Every time I put pen to paper, or fingertips to the keyboard, every bad memory of my horrible schooling came rushing back to me.

As part of my new job (a decade ago), I was required to write a regular monthly article for the trade magazine, which I approached with great trepidation initially. Having come from radio and before that my life as an auctioneer, I had no problem talking, but writing, wow, that was a whole new adventure. I realise now that this is a classic chicken and egg thing, because i didn’t want to write I had to hone my speaking skills, so no shock that I finished up in gigs that didn’t require writing right?

Having served my writing apprenticeship after three or four years I found the constraints of writing a monthly trade article (effectively toeing the company line) just too restricting and I found myself looking for other opportunities to express myself.(I know, get me!)

I then began writing a newsletter, sent electronically as a subscription service to the very same people who were readers of the magazine. It started from just my email list of about 60 people, soon I had 1200 subscribers. So far so good. I was able to be cheekier than the monthly corporate article and have a little fun along the way. Then I got an email out of the blue, from someone who was not a subscriber, giving me advice that I had not requested, none of which was complimentary.

It went something like this “who do you think you are? what arrogance, opinionated, childish dribble etc” My immediate reaction was one of shame and disappointment. My gut reaction was exactly that, physical and forceful, it felt like I had got all of this wrong, and let people down by publishing my thoughts and ideas. I went straight back to that time in school when the teacher was handing out yesterday’s test results.

Then, as my gut reaction calmed, I had another look at it. He wasn’t a subscriber, no-one was forcing him to read the newsletter. In fact he had to go out of his way to read it. Why then would someone go to that extra effort, and then be critical of the author? And even more than that, why would you bother to get personal and send it to the author? Are people really that mean and keen to hurt?

After some consideration, I concluded that, yes indeed some people are that mean. In this world in which we live there are mean, cruel people hell-bent on destruction. People without a moments care for the ramifications of their appalling behaviour. They feel it is their divine right to be critical and no fear for the collateral damage. The real issue then is, for me, should I listen to them?

Should I have sleepless nights worrying that I am not doing the right thing by writing? Do I really write childish drivel? Should I just hit the delete button on his email? Should I write back to him giving him both barrels or perhaps apologising for wasting his oh-so-valuable time? Should I give it another thought? Well that last question is an easy one, of course I was going to think about it some more.

I have in the past been guilty of catastrophising and then relying heavily on my bride to supply perspective in matters of these kinds or whenever I feel that I may have lost objectivity. So, back to the well I went and asked for her honest opinion. She told me that my writing had improved out of sight and was now fun to read. As a fully paid up member of the “Harsh but fair” party, she wouldn’t lie to me about stuff like that. So I decided to take on board the input that my writing style was not for everyone, but was sufficiently popular to keep going.

I tell this tale because most people who know me, may be surprised that the foul words of someone I have never met would upset me or indeed have any effect on me at all. But they did. So I would ask you to be considerate when complaining. Which means have a little think about it before you do it. That’s all.

Footnote: Michael is the Curator of The Life Log Project. A commercial operation based in Sydney Australia that helps people tell their story, captured on digital media for the benefit of future generations. For more information on the service check out http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au

On friendships that drift

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

IMG_0588

I’m guessing we have all had friendships that have just drifted off into the ether. People that were once friends become acquaintances for no particular reason other than one or both parties stops making the effort that was once made. Most often neither party is at fault, sometimes the effort of constantly being the motivating force simply wears thin.

Occasionally it results in slightly embarrassing impromptu meetings in shopping centres or community get togethers but once that is taken care of the new status is confirmed and everyone is much the happier as a result.

I was watching a brilliant Netflix series on chefs the other day called (I think) the The Chefs Table, and the chef described many of his past friends as “just not interesting him much anymore.” While that is an extreme take on it, we probably also have old friends like that too. He or she may be OK in the right social setting, but that setting just wasn’t happening often enough. (think drink)

Perhaps in my case, I could sheet home the blame on my upbringing. After all, as the son of a Naval man, we moved house and school almost every two years which meant that I had some practice at not bonding totally and leaving people behind. Though in truth that may have some bearing, I do not blame my upbringing at all for allowing many of my best friendships to simply drift.

I really enjoy friendships that mean I don’t have to see people every day. I like to meet with my friends at a rhythm that suits me, not too often (whatever that may be) and not so rarely that I feel out of touch with their current challenges.

Supporting people through their challenges whether they might be mental, emotional or intellectual is the hub of all of my friendships. Offering a shoulder to cry on, a brain to pick, an ear to a version of a story or simply the comfort of a great meal and good wine is the cornerstone of every meaningful friendship I have. That may not be the case for everyone, but there you go.

That then may also explain why some friendships drift. Having picked my brain or eaten at my table or explained their story or cried on my shoulder, perhaps the other party needed more and I failed to provide it. I get really excited when I get the chance to share something with my friends. Sport or food or news it doesn’t really matter, life is exciting when that opportunity comes along. Friends are great, and I love to spend some time with them.

 

Footnote.Michael is the Chief Curator of http://www.thelifelogproject.com.au a business that helps people to tell their story for the benefit of future generations.