learning

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.

Why I do something as dangerous as riding a scooter in Sydney

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

Some of my friends still can’t believe I would do something as dangerous as riding a scooter in this town. This is a car town. Ask any driver and they will tell you. Roads are for cars, and these roads, in this town, are not for anybody or any thing else. Absolutely not push bikes, and not even really scooters or motorbikes.

I drove cars for years. Several of my jobs involved hopping into cars and visiting sites or clients and I have to say, driving was drudgery. Riding on the other hand is a completely different ball game. With very rare exception, I am smiling when I hop off my scoot. Weather has some say in that of course. From time to time I am silly enough not to look up the forecast and I head out at the wrong time, wearing the wrong stuff.

The English say, there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. I reckon every scooter rider may put up an argument on that one, but the right clothes definitely help when you are up on two wheels that’s for sure. A trickle of cold water down the back of your shirt as you sit and wait for the lights to change is a real sensation.

Travelling on two wheels is such a liberating, fun and truly interactive way to travel I just love it. I’m keen on the wind in my face, leaning into corners, throttling my way out of traffic and the direct hum of the engine under my backside is wonderful and immediate.

The bit I like the best, and it doesn’t happen all that often, is when my bride hops on the back and we go somewhere (most likely to the footy). You cannot beat the feeling of someone special hugging you, no matter how gently or confidently as you conquer the world. That is how riding feels. As if you are truly the first person conquering the world, or your tiny bit of it anyway.

Riding well takes 100% concentration. You need to be aware of what is in front, what is behind, what is about to enter on the left or right, that car door or that stupid hole in the road they haven’t fixed yet. You have to make room for that huge truck or that bus and account for the foibles and inadequacies of all of those people driving and texting.

I often hear my driving friends say, “I wonder if I’m right to drive, if I’ve had too many?” That never happens when I’m riding because you can’t ride well with even one beer in your system. If you are not riding well, you wont be riding for long. Please be kind to my fellow riders, be considerate by using your indicators and doing head checks.

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.

Dummy-happy

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

Listening to great music with my headphones on puts me in a state I call “dummy happy”. It’s the feeling that little babies must have when their mum pops in their dummy,  at the end of a long day awake and they instantly suck contentedly and their eyes close peacefully.

It’s better than sleep because when I am in that “dummy-happy” state, I am wide awake and very conscious of the sound or more accurately the effect of the sound upon me.

My toes occasionally gently wiggle, my tongue twists and turns as it taps out the time and my fingers sometimes twitch to the beat, but it is blissful, relaxing and intoxicating.
I have a long list of playlists on my iPod, some listed by their mood, some by their style but one of my favourites is called “quiet.” It was curated with this dummy happy state in mind. It is not all quiet music.

It is fair to say that most of it is instrumental but even then there are beautiful exceptions. The fabulous guitarist Antonio Forcione, the mystical Nick Drake, some beautiful orchestral works, the American jazz guitar superstar Pat Metheny, a smattering of Peter Gabriel, the quirky and sometimes somnambulistic Penguin cafe next to the ethereal Jenkins & Adiemus. The young American vocal duet, the Milk Carton Kids get a look in with a few tracks as one of the rare vocal entries along some peculiar Sting selections.

The world would benefit if everyone had a playlist like this at their fingertips. Not my playlist so much, but one that gave them that same “dummy happy” feeling. The music needs to be engaging without making you want to get up and dance. It must be gentle but not sleepy.

 

Merry Christmas

Country property

/ beaumontmichael / 1 Comment

 

 

 

IMG_8332

As you may or may not know, it has long been the dream (I would call it “the plan”) to live in the country once the kids have grown up and gone their own way. Living in the inner west of Sydney, is lovely, and we have certainly made the most of the restaurants and cafes but the inner city lifestyle can be wearing.

My job has afforded me the luxury of criss-crossing the state visiting Bowling clubs so that has allowed me to see many of the hidden away corners. I fell in love with the East Gresford, Allynbrook, Dungog area about four years ago.

After years of doing what Anna calls “Property porn” (which I call “research”) keeping a close eye on all the property that comes to the market in the area we liked, and doing the occasional “reccy” we have finally found something. I’m no farmer so finding land that you can’t seriously farm can be a challenge, particularly as Anna’s leading stipulation was not being able to see the neighbours. We had plenty of other items on the checklist and though no property was ever going to tick all the boxes, this one comes pretty close.

Bingleburra Rd Sugarloaf (which sounds completely made up) is 6 minutes outside beautiful Dungog. The town has a hospital and a train station which means it is accessible by train from Sydney. It is 3 hours door to door, which of course real estate agents say is 2.5 hours from Sydney (meaning Hornsby). The town is well-known for the Dungog film festival (which is no more) and iconic test cricketer Doug Walters.

Barjol Sth (as it is to be named) is 159 acres, pretty hilly, about 50% cleared, with 4 small dams and two deep gullies. The road forms one of its boundaries and the property is shaped a little like a cashew. We wont be building on it for a while (maybe a few years) but we have a really interesting local architect (here in Alexandria) keen to be a part of the project.

The views both north-east and south-west are amazing, with the Barrington tops just a few Kilometres away, the property is often tucked up in the clouds and it snows most years. (albeit for a day or two) It is pretty much as far north as it regularly snows in Australia. This is kind of ironic as the reason I concentrated my property search north of Sydney and not south was all about temperature.

We are pretty excited about the future, we realise the purchase means that we will be poor for a while, but that’s ok. As I said, I am no farmer. I’m a city boy, I am going to struggle with killing anything. I guess I will learn, as I am completely aware that sometimes killing is the humane outcome. The aim is to live completely off the grid. Or at the very least to reduce the footprint my past 30 years in Alexandria has caused.

Bring it on!

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

Building tennis teams

/ beaumontmichael / 2 Comments

As a long distance observer, it seems to me that Davis Cup success and Tennis Australia are at the cross roads. Perhaps they are even past that point and now heading in opposite directions. We recently played Kazakstan (who knew that even had tennis players?) in Darwin on grass and came very close to having our pants lowered. Now I am not saying the Darwin’s grass courts are not the epicentre of tennis in Australia nor am I inferring that we played there because nowhere else in the country would have given a damn, or even that Tennis Australia decided to play there because it gave us a distinct advantage, (surely not).

The dislike that our 23 ranked player Bernard Tomic publicly displayed for the organisation resulted in his removal from the team. Probably a good thing too as it gave him just enough time to become famous in Miami for paying too much for a hotel room that magically transforms into a jail cell. All of which must have made the gurus at Tennis Australia feel grand indeed.

I think there is a bigger play here though. We had great success in the Davis Cup in the era before the pros and then again in the early days of professionalism. Frankly we weren’t much good at any other team sport and certainly not any that involved balls. In those heady days we also had more than our fair share of players inside the top ten. Back then to help us along a little, backyards were often filled with tennis courts and every farm had one, and tennis courts were not littered across the four corners of the globe as they are now. (who would have thought it?)

So history aside, now we have a bunch of highly paid professionals, some of whom are clearly not capable of looking after themselves, that require more than just a ‘nice guy’ that looks great in undies, to give them assistance. Building a team in this era, as anyone that has done it recently will tell you, has its own unique set of challenges.

Add to that the money, the bloated egos and the lack of understanding of the scale of the exercise and it is no surprise to me that it is not coming together beautifully. Team building in Australia is different to (most of) the rest of the world. Particularly at the pointy end of sport, and particularly with the addition of Gen Y.

I cringe when I hear the older generation say that “this would never happen in Harry Hopman’s day” because while it is true, I really can’t imagine Mr Tomic and Mr Hopman having much to say to one another. I can only imagine what the reaction might be to the suggestion of a quick run up a few sand dunes. At least Darwin is well situated for that little beauty. No, Harry is not the answer.

Tennis Australia should ship in Ray McLean and his troops. If you have not had the opportunity to read his books, I recommend them to anyone in Australia involved in team-building. I have used the philosophy both with my work team and the sporting teams that I work with and the systems and processes work. Without giving too much away, Ray is like a modern-day version of Harry Hopman, in that he thinks differently to everyone else and has bought his own brand along with him. He has done for AFL what Harry did for tennis.

Ray developed his skills working with the Air Force developing teamwork in mission-critical scenarios. There is nothing quite like taking life and death training and then honing that experience for work in team sport. As many a team coach will tell you, winning isn’t life or death, it’s much more important than that. Good luck Tennis.