HI! MY NAME IS AND I’M AN **

May 31, 2018May 31, 20181 Comment

I literally have no inclination to write at the moment. It’s not that I don’t have the time, it’s just don’t have the will. I’d be lying if I said this laissez-faire attitude hasn’t spilt over into many other projects. It’s another moment of clarity in the land of the un-routine.

I am still struggling to find normality in this rhythm of irregularity. There are literally no two days alike, from start to finish, and everything in between. Each day is an adventure, an opportunity to build something great from the freedom that lay ahead. Time is but the greatest of these, in all its undervalued glory. We cannot get it back. It can’t be saved-up or bought from the store if we run out. It is an intangible anomaly in a universe of highly accepted tangibility.

I am continually confronted with this new awareness; of time, as a finite resource. We can splish-splash in it all we want but at the end of the day, it will never be the infinity pool we so dream of. It seems a rare case where perception is not in fact reality, yet, here we are. No matter how endless the pool appears, it too is constrained by the limited supply of water, power, and caretakers to maintain it.

Instead, we are confined to an old concrete bowl of times past. This functional enclosure offers us an even spread of this ethereal substance, and like it or not, it begins leaking from the day we are born. Yes, there are things we can do to slow its materialisation. But nought can be done to prevent the inevitability of this future skate rink entirely.

Jana Payne riding the pool with confidence in the 1970s

Jana Payne riding the empty well of time.

So, here I am. Confronted daily with my inevitable doom. Face to face with this shrinking mass of water, of time, of life. It is easy to get taken aback by the bleak nature of these facts but that view will not add more hours, or gift extra days. There is no sympathetic response in denying these truths. But, by confronting them head-on, there may be a chance to plough their fields for prosperity. A filling of one’s personal bank if you like; with meaning, fulfilment, and financial reward.

It sounds so noble, doesn’t it? A life worth living. A rebuttal to the expectation that your role as a human being is bound by your economic worth. It is an actuality that has pained me my entire life. Our education system, our workplaces, the nature of big business, and the epidemic of poor management in the smaller. I have turned and twisted. Resisted with subtle and not-so-subtle force. I writhed in internal agony as the necessity of a functional and financial baseline suffocated my true hopes and dreams.

But my perspective has changed, evolved. For the first time, I truly see the benefit in those of you who stay in the world of the new normal. My inner rebellion presented so strong in the past that it pained me to see the greatness of others be suffocated by the wastefulness of the regular. It was a coping mechanism for my own inability to escape, and it manifested in a push onto those around me to do the same. ‘Come on, we can do this together! A walkout, a revolution, a heist of our own lost liberty’. But the motley array of responses were all valid. Facing the alternative, I now realise, is not something I would wish on many. If you get some enjoyment out of whatever it is you do, if you excel in your role, if you are getting paid good money, if you are not in a world of discomfort – stay. Stay as long as you goddamn can. Pursue passionate endeavours and creative ventures outside of these hours. Yes, your time may be limited and your energy depleted. But your financial ability will be plentiful and in this modern world, you must use at least part of these means to practice such worldly delights. I apologise if I ever made you feel that your pathway was not earnest. The ache was mine to own and any attempts to engineer a softened blow to my own outcomes was futile.

Me: Getting Off My High Horse

Enough deflection. Time to shoot the arrow where it belongs.
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Hello. My name is ZB and I am an alcoholic.
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I kid, I kid, I’m not really! It just rolls off the tongue so well. Sorry, back on task.
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My name is Bec and at the ripe age of 32, I have finally been diagnosed with ADHD.
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Yep, you heard it here first folks! And, unless your life has been touched in some way by this big-bag-of-unfocused-fun, you are likely to have waded through the deep sea of (mostly incorrect) assumptions. I know I was certainly guilty. I reserved these four letters for hyperactive young boys, lazy parenting, and overprescribing doctors. Because it was easy that way. And yes, I’m sure that there’s a percentage of people who fit under this umbrella of stereotypes regardless. Buuuuut, by applying these generalisations to everyone, it further reinforces the negative connotations for people who truly do struggle with this ‘disorder’. It also masks the real issues at hand, such as the high rate of missed diagnosis in young females and adults.

Let’s debunk some of the junk in the trunk, walk with me.

Potatoes-Potahtoes

The correct term is ADHD, or Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder.
The term ‘ADD’ was eliminated from the diagnostic manual back in 1987.
Some experts assert that ‘attention deficit’ is a misleading name. ‘Attention deregulation’ may be more accurate since most people with ADHD have more than enough attention — they just can’t harness it in the right direction at the right time with any consistency.¹Read: ADHD is not a damaged or defective nervous system, it is a nervous system that works well – using its own set of rules.²

Epidemiology

Meta-regression analyses estimate the worldwide prevalence of ADHD at around 6.2% for children and adolescents, and 3.4% in adults.³
Further reviews across 199 worldwide studies found no significant difference in prevalence between countries. Researchers, therefore argue that ADHD is not a cultural construct associated with a particular geographical location.³

Causes

As proven by studies of twins and families, ADHD is a highly hereditable condition. Yes! Genetic factors are the major cause of ADHD in individuals.⁴
Children whose parents have ADHD have a 40% to 60% chance of also having it. Sometimes a child’s diagnosis can be the first clue that a parent may have ADHD.⁷
Secondary factors such as lifestyle choices, personality style, toxic pollution, exercise, nutrition, socioeconomic factors, and parenting behaviour can all improve or worsen outcomes.^5,6

Diagnosis

Diagnosis in adults is not always straightforward as there is often an age-dependent change in symptoms. The older the person, the less obvious symptoms become.⁸
Furthermore, ADHD has a high rate of comorbidity, meaning that it is often present alongside other diagnoses which may cloud the symptoms.⁹
To qualify for an ADHD diagnosis, at least some of the symptoms should have been present during childhood or adolescence, even though they may not have been recognized at the time.¹⁰
The medical incidence of ADHD is equal among males and females, however, females are half as likely to be diagnosed. The reason for this stems from a range of factors including gender-specific behaviour norms, severity of symptoms and socioeconomic considerations.⁹
Multiple criteria must be established before diagnosis including the age of onset, pervasiveness, impairment (social, academic or occupational functioning), exclusionary conditions, and symptoms.
An individual must present with a minimum of 5 out of 9 symptoms if they are over 17 years (or 6 out of 9 for those under).¹² Once the criterion and symptoms are fully established, the person will be diagnosed with one of the three ‘presentations’ of ADHD. They are:

1. ADHD Predominantly Inattentive (ADHD-I)
One-third of people diagnosed will have this subtype. They might present with serious inattention problems but have minimal issues with hyperactivity/ impulsive symptoms.¹⁰ADHD-I is far less likely to be recognized by parents, teachers, psychologists and doctors so people rarely get the treatment they need with this type.^{10, 13}

Girls tend to have this type more than the others so they are less likely to be recognized as having ADHD because they are not being disruptive enough to call attention to themselves.¹⁰

2. ADHD Predominantly Hyperactive-Impulsive Type (ADHD-HI)
The hyperactive/impulsive subtype is the lowest presentation for adults with ADHD.¹⁴Children with hyperactive symptoms are difficult to ignore. The ones bouncing out of their chairs or clowning around are usually the first to be evaluated and diagnosed.¹³

3. ADHD Combined Type (ADHD-C)
Around 56% of adults with ADHD have the ADHD-Combined subtype.¹⁴ Also known as ‘a bit of column A, a bit of column B’ teehee.

Under these presentations lies a comprehensive list of singular symptoms that vary greatly from person to person. Whilst there are many effective ways of managing ADHD presently, the continual development of more individually tailored treatments is important.
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So, have you guessed my ‘type’?
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I’d like to go with contestant number three thanks Greg! Why limit yourself to one set of symptoms when you can order the lot?

I have soooooooo much more to tell you. How this all translates to my world; past tense, present tense, and how I can make it work for me not against me in the future. I’ve gone through a stupid amount of medical journals, articles, research papers, and global websites to find some real gems! I think there might be a whole other post just dedicated to the proven link between ADHD and….entrepreneurship!! Everything is starting to make sense. Stay tuned, and reach out with any questions (or messages of hope – that I too could become a ‘finisher’ one day!).

See ya round like
a rollerblade,

ZB x

Cover Image: tylerspangler.com

I GOT FIRED (BY A GIRL) AND I, EVENTUALLY, LIKED IT

November 14, 2017November 14, 20172 Comments

A quick succession of close but momentous events meant that in one fortnight, a few necessary chapters closed, at the exact moment many others opened for business. If I didn’t live through it myself, I wouldn’t believe it to be true. Even now, only some few weeks later is it all beginning to sink in. As expected, these changes are uncomfortable, exciting, and exactly as they should be.

For the path that I drafted was not to be. It is an unpredictable life and it was frivolous of me to expect that things would play out with the miraculous nature that I had once hoped for. But change without a plan is foolish so it was with the best of intentions that the original endeavours I set out to conquer, were established. If you’ve been following along, you would have ridden passenger for the ups and downs that have been the last seven months of my life. Or, ‘life after corporate’ as it is more affectionately labelled.

It was in two minds that I made this leap. With all the blind confidence I could muster, I made big plans to change the world and continue the journey I had begun of pushing the ’emotional intelligence’ agenda to those in need and questionably, those not so. On one hand, I was full of steam, motivated by the momentum garnered from a series of awakenings. On the other hand, I now realise, I sub-consciously expected it all to fail as it did – in all of its splendid, mundane and underwhelming glory. I was not prepared, I had not planned (as much as is needed when throwing one’s stability away), and I was not yet free of the conditioning that the prior 18 years had placed on my working, and consequently, daily mindset.

I toyed with different routines and routes, but I was still unravelling. It’s a dangerous place to be because your conditioned expectations leave you clinging to familiarity, to safety. Growth is meant to be uncomfortable. If it was easy, everybody would be pressing the eject button. The world needs you to stay comfortable. To stick to what you know, or what you think you know. Wake up, caffeinate, dance for the money, rinse, wash, repeat. Don’t ask questions, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Unless you dance on weekends, or away from your family, or in dangerous places; then yes – you get the extra clams. Kudos?

So as mentioned, the money/plan eventually dried out. I did what any semi-sane person would do and I applied for a triage of roles that ranged from unwarranted to downright out of my league. I landed in the sparkliest one I could find and pushed hard for a role that I thought was equally challenging and exciting. It scored extra points for tickling my ego in a fickle industry. I gave it my all and quickly remembered that my capabilities were greater than my confidence alludes to. Some big red flags came up quickly. I verbalised them within my private network but vowed to go on. I had stayed in my last workplace for almost six years. Leaving within a month was unfamiliar territory that I had not prepared myself for.

I had many personal victories in the role and I took these as a sign to keep going despite the noise in the background. But’s that the thing. When the noise is a person, a manager, an owner; you can’t just wish it away – as I did. It was gutless of me but I didn’t want for confrontation any more than I hoped that everything would just work out. I voiced my concerns in a manner of ways which were both constructive and unconstructive. But in the end, it didn’t matter. The alarm bells were ringing, the red flags were flapping, and the sparkly option was beginning to show itself for what it was – a polished turd rolled in the most tremendous colours and coruscation.

And it was with this attitude that the best decision to be placed on me consequently occurred – I was fired! I felt immediate relief. Followed by a sting of pain. A hit to the ego, a shot fired into the rationality of the irrational situation I had placed myself in. A sadness for the loss of customer relationships I had made, and for the successes, I had achieved. But mostly, a relief. There are always two sides to every story – yours, mine, and the truth. But, I can assure you; I was both a lot better and a lot worse than this story tells. ‘Irreconcilable differences’ are what the divorce papers would say, and I couldn’t say it better myself.

So, it is with the low-lows that we, the people of hope and good vibes, await the high-highs. And what a surprisingly short wait, this one was. It was on the very same day of the private flogging that I received good news from one of the faculty from my University. A high distinction for both my final assignment and overall grade in Consumer Behaviour. The irony is not lost. “I’m very impressed with your academic maturity and approach to this assignment. You should seriously consider taking further academic courses to MA if not your initial plan, or beyond if it was! This assignment clearly demonstrates your deep understanding of CB theory and I feel your analysis and application is excellent. Great work. Well done.” Dr. Thornton – Lead Tutor.

Literally three days after this emotional rollercoaster, I get a message from the international team at Airbnb Experiences. That beer and food tour I proposed for shits n gigs – grew some hairy, hop-loving legs! Airbnb are launching this extension of their business in Melbourne, and after hustling to get all my ducks in a row; I pitched, nailed it and am very much looking forward to hosting the inaugural ‘Beer + Bites’ tours in Melbourne, later this month. They say do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life….and well, I am pretty fond of beer.

But between kicking a few goals academically and entrepreneurially, I was still left with a gaping hole in my capacity, schedule, and wallet. Re-enter Vivo Marketing, stage left. I have been working with a good friend and colleague on her business since she celebrated a successful first year of strategic and executional marketing consultation (post an impressive slew of big corp and FMCG experience). As the business changed and evolved, my involvement weighed up and down depending on need and desire. The fluidity has been a welcomed relief around other commitments that had very little.

Almost as if it were meant to be, a new phase of growth in the business literally appeared the week the axe was swung. More importantly, opportunities to use my strengths and dabble in my passions became more present than previously possible. So, it is with this new opportunity that I will focus on my love of strategy, people management, and my absolute favourite – brand aesthetics. Working alongside a small business owner who is flexible and open to ideas, has a growth mindset and is not wedded to things that aren’t working, is well, such a great trait of a true leader. I hope we grow the shit out of this business together.

I wish that was all I have to tell you but the truth is there are even more doors opening. Things are on track (a slower track, but a track nonetheless) for my co-working space to launch early 2018. The furniture is in, the art is up on the walls, and the space looks amazing. It is a complete turnaround from what is looked like six or so months ago. The website is coming along (slowly) and as soon as the photos are complete, it will be time to advertise, interview and open!

But wait, there’s more. No, I’m not even joking and you don’t get the free steak knives…just yet. We’re nearly there.

My emotional intelligence and ikigai missions continue their lifelong journeys, as promised. The difference is that now they occur at a much slower and targeted pace as their manifestations continue to evolve, adapt, or die off. This fortnight of possibilities continued in its fortuity with the national broadcasting commission putting out a call for new podcast ideas (yes Aussies – the ABC). I have been brewing on my idea since I got together with you all to head over to MIT last year. That is, I want to open up the conversation about people’s purpose, their reason for getting out of bed in the morning, their ikigai. I want to explore the thousands of different jobs, careers, and callings that people get dressed for and head out the door to, each and every morning. I find out whether this concept has any shtick in December. Cross all your fingers and toes.

Look, we’re at 1496 words so I must be getting close to the end, right? Right! I want to leave you with a bit of information that I learned recently from a ground-breaking study completed by UC Berkeley psychology professor and expert on the science of emotions, Dacher Keltner. He and Alan Cowen, a doctoral student in neuroscience also at UC Berkeley have discovered that human emotions span a spectrum of 27 distinct dimensions, not 6 as previously described. Moreover, in contrast to the notion that each emotional state is felt in isolation, the study found that “there are smooth gradients of emotion between, say, awe and peacefulness, horror and sadness, and amusement and adoration. We don’t get finite clusters of emotions in the map because everything is interconnected. Emotional experiences are much richer and more nuanced than previously thought’, the pair discussed in a recent article.

Doesn’t this just fill your head with so much curiosity?! We have such a long way to go in terms of understanding, communicating, and learning about the full spectrum of these human emotions. With more focus here, we can begin to uncover the next waves of human evolution which will come from understanding ourselves and our fellow man better. Heck, even the implications for user experience and business are beyond our current realm of capability. It’s an exciting time for this discovery.

If you were on the edge of your seat…wonder no more. The 27 human emotions, are – admiration, adoration, aesthetic appreciation, amusement, anger, anxiety, awe, awkwardness, boredom, calmness, confusion, craving, disgust, empathic pain, entrancement, excitement, fear, horror, interest, joy, nostalgia, relief, romance, sadness, satisfaction, sexual desire, surprise.

Ok, you made it. Well done. It’s a lot to take in. I am truly a multipotentialite in every sense of the word and as such, it is time to stop with the incessant application of safety net options. It is time to go it alone, to seek the road less travelled, to adopt a reasonable answer to the increasingly tricky question, “what do you do?”. But that is the least of my concerns at this moment because for the first time in a long time, I truly feel both happy and content. I run my own timetable, work with a variety of wonderful people, feel challenged daily, move my body lots more, drink way less, work fewer hours, and am much more productive overall. I’m literally like a beaming ray of fucking sunshine in this moment. I am a better friend, a better wife, a kinder person to myself, and a more conscious citizen.

2018 is going to be a big year, for us all. Watch out world!

ZB xx

*Cover Image: Winston the Whale, Final Image: Lisa Larsen, 1949

CHAPTER 89: THE STRUGGLE ENDS WHEN THE GRATITUDE BEGINS

June 15, 2017June 28, 20172 Comments

I’ve yearned to write a new post the past few days. The struggle is getting real, the hurdles aplenty and the pain bodies continue to call out my ego despite my efforts to muffle them. But it is not in my being to write another post about the strain. I will not feed it or humour it, I will not give in to the easy route. On the occasions that my mind is still, I am reminded that the overwhelming driver of the past three months has been a place of peace.

There has been a new baseline of living. Completely separate from the physical realms of things like financial wellbeing, my overall presence has been, well; better. I am conscious not to use the word ‘happier’ because I don’t think it’s accurate. Happiness is a state that I aspire to as much as the next person but it is just that; a conscious awareness of such. This place I have been spending more time in is different because it occurs mostly unbeknownst.

In this place of unconsciousness, of being, I have been free. Free to breathe deeper breaths. To sleep in a few more minutes after a restless night. To read pages of a random book. To take in the colours and smells and sounds of my neighbourhood. To take longer showers. To sometimes, not shower at all. To eat less. To feel the sunshine on my body more. To undertake an intense period of learning. To make mistakes and have the space to understand how not to make them again. To cook a meal. To do laundry and vacuum and dust – and enjoy it!

Literally a picture of me studying in the sun last week.

Surprisingly, and perhaps to the concern of my therapist, I have thoroughly enjoyed the absence of routine. It’s a double edge sword because I know routine keeps me at my ‘most polished’. But, for the most part, I have really loved – not being polished. There will come a time when the pendulum must find an equilibrium but until then – it’s a natural-faced, messy bun, Birkenstocks; kind of life. Which is quite freeing in itself. There is a good reason why Obama and that-Facebook-guy wear the same thing every day. It’s so their decision-making muscle is reserved for more important things throughout their waking hours. How great is this. What an effortless way to contribute to stemming fast-fashion. Minimalism at its’ best.

So you know, after my loose morning routine, I start proceedings by working on the things that I feel most closely to that day. Deadlines influence, as does weather, and funds – but besides that, the day’s to-do-list is what I make of it. My life has slowed, dramatically. There is no rushing or missing out or clashes. I was even early for a meetup with friends the other day; I had to call my husband to share the moment. I now look at events on weekday evenings, and consider them instead of instant dismissal. It has opened up this whole other world of activity. None of which is obligatory. So I attend some and not others. It is no big issue. But it is fulfilling. Like I am seeing more of my city and its possibilities. Feeding more time into my interests. Even the insignificant ones. Like visual feasting on Pinterest. Or wasting time but not mind on suduko and arrowwords.

I am grateful for the people in my life. They provide support and understanding, friendship, growth, and fun. There are those whom without their presence; the journey of life, would not be so enjoyable. There is an ease that is unexplainable. It provides an unconscious inner comfort that could never be brought or inorganically manifested. And for reasons I am yet to understand, our communication stays active despite my conscious fear of answering the friendship phone (yep, sprung). They fill in the gaps that I create and our time together is none the wiser when we are in each other’s presence. They make life worth living and I couldn’t recommend a better bunch of people to any soul in search for a soothing song.

Who could not love this mad bunch?!

Which brings me to the Unicorn. I find this one the most difficult to describe because our time together has provided a somewhat rebirth for me. Combined with the long and hard hours I spent bettering myself prior, it was by the grace of the universe, that this human and I were brought together after many years of distant acquaintance. This was to both of our surprise. And once seen, it could not be unseen. So, it was with dreamy hearts that we began our journey together. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that, for the most part, we have spent the last six and a half years together being very stupidly, madly and happily in love. Do we have a secret? Is there such a thing? I think it helps to marry someone open-minded who loves you more than you love them – both ways. Together your selflessness will continue to burn bright no matter how big the hurdles that make tracks in front of you.

But it is not without reason that I have left the big picture till last. Sometimes I forget it’s significance and importance but mainly, it’s presence never leaves my side. It is my purpose. My ikigai. My reason for being. I am grateful that this current time in my life is an uncomfortable push. A shove. A hard boot up the ass. To find a closer pathway that is my calling. It is in the discomfort of the past few months that I have had to dig deeper and continue to unearth the new road on this lifelong journey. It has twisted and contorted. Sometimes feeling ugly and uncomfortable, it has risen again shedding the heaviness and beholding bigger and better places of beauty. It is through this process that I have come to lose a few balls, a few marbles and a few unstable paths. But all for reason.

So as I continue to search for that role that fits like a glove, I push on with my side projects and passions which may inevitably be that match. I am not in control of very much these days but I do have assets. And seeing as I cannot seem to get rid of them (despite my best efforts in some cases), it is time to take my lemons and make the best damn limoncello that this town has ever seen. I am literally in the process of selling all the old shitty furniture in my apartment and swinging in some jazzy new stuff (thanks interest-free). I am turning this unused, light filled, open-aired hunk of a space into my next chapter. Insert ‘Ontwerp Huis’.

Meaning ‘design house’ in Dutch, this space in inner city Melbourne, will become the new permanent home to eight designers or ‘ontwerpers’ as they will be known. I really do love working from home but feck me, it can get lonely, boring, isolating, distracting and on some days – a little bit loco! What I truly miss about the corporate world is a team to bounce ideas off, to share the lows and celebrate the highs with. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve already brought the Friday-night-drinks trolley – it’s the tits. This permanent workspace won’t be like any others you’ve heard of or been too. For it would be remiss of me to open a workspace that reverted to the old rules of the game. Practice what you preach, right?

Ok, so maybe not this fancy – but close!

A governing set of ‘Huis Principes’ will guide the family. Productivity is king and the pomodoro technique will be a daily fixture. The office will be paper-free for the most part, coffee will be offsite, and the biggest advancement is that we will only be open 4 days a week. Because progress. For you; the individual, the business owner, the entrepreneur, the ontwerper. And for society; your families, your friendships, and your community. It is a forced day out of the office and into your clients world, your places of inspiration, your home without weekenders or your ‘third space’ – a café or library or local place that completes your (scientifically proven) productive triangle.

Holy crap, that feels good to share. Like the rest of my life, the website is ‘under construction’ but I will share the love as soon as it’s complete. In the meantime, if you know any absolute-fucking-legends (no more, no less) who own their own business, are designers, or entrepreneurs, or just need to work outside of their corporate office a bit more (but still get shit done) – then please send me a message, text me, or call me (I’ll pick up, promise). I’m looking for an all-star cast; no egos, no bullshit, such a bunch of rippers looking to shred through their own next chapters in epic form. Introverts, extroverts, feelers, thinkers, black, white, LGBTQFD, whatever the fuck you are – if you are someone who works hard, respects the people and places that surround you, and doesn’t mind a cheeky Friday night vino – then, this one’s for you kid!

Yours in eternal gratitude,
Zig B x

Chapter 31: A New Dream

April 5, 2017April 6, 2017Leave a comment

And so it came to pass, that the aspirational lifestyle no longer served its purpose. It was time to move on. To regroup together as mind, body and soul – and ask ourselves what was giving us energy and what was draining us so. Together we twisted and contorted, turned left and then right. We got angry and frustrated. We got depressed and empty. We did our very best to squeeze our square little selves into the roundest of round holes. Although the roles began as somewhat fulfilling, the long-term sticking point came from the people. There were laughs and banter. A collective common as we fought to utilise our greatest strengths and squash the bits that strayed outside of the lines. We rode the highs together and we bonded strongly during the lows. We flowed together as a pool of conflicting personalities – all heading in the same direction but crashing and rebuilding through our own personal rapids. We worked hard, we were accountable. There was a pride in our work, our product. There was an openness of speech and humility in response. There were people driven by ego and there were lots that were not. I enjoyed it for the most part but it was time for growth, autonomy and new connections. It was time for the next chapter.

I never wanted to work in “corporate” growing up. I never dreamt that I would spend 5 days a week sitting on my ass in front of a machine that would dominate my every waking hour. I never dreamt that life would become a chore – a never-ending day of the same routine. Wake up tired, drag myself to some sort of physical activity, transit amongst other sick and depressed looking people, work passionately and longingly to build someone else’s dream – usually Shareholders of some sort – go home exhausted, not effectively communicate with my husband, drown out the pain with low functioning TV or aspirational personal work till the wee hours, toss and turn through the night with ghosts of lives past, rinse, cycle, repeat.

God. When you put it like that, it’s a wonder I ever made it out of bed at all. And to be honest, most days I barely did. I was a walking zombie. One for whom coffee was not an option. I couldn’t even drug myself to function on the required level. So one day I decided to sleep when I could, in the morning. And so I started a bit later and my productivity levels and serotonin drastically lifted. Once I got past the judging looks of those early risers and at worse, my own inner demons – I didn’t look back. Feeling more balanced that I had in years. It was a credit to my final managers that this change in routine was never questioned. Finally an evolution in perception, where the quantity and quality of work completed at last outweighed the insignificance of hours in the chair.

My corporate alter ego – Zombie Rob.

So if this was never the dream, then why was I here so many years later? Well, why do you think? Remuneration was not a desire but a survival factor. I was out on my own, paying to put a roof over my head at 17 and food on the table which no longer magically appeared each time I sat down. I had started in different industries but a series of unfortunate events had led me to the environmental and financial stability of the modern working office. I was lucky enough to work for some fun brands, national and international icons but at the end of the day, once you have spent enough time anywhere – it is no longer about the sport, the art, or the fun – it becomes about the bottom line. Or sometimes the poor management. Or the archaic patriarchal structures that has served these companies for generations past. I dug my heels in occasionally, speaking up for change and fairness. I was met with looks of shock or admiration depending on the evolution of the individual. It was often empowering. Often disheartening. Often frustrating. Efficiency, workplace progression, fairness – these were all things that the machine did not have room for. Unless you had a fancy title, then suddenly these words had more power. Or at the very least, the person’s hearing them, heard them with more intensity.

I can hear the chip on my shoulder as my thoughts spill out. I would be lying if I said there was no damage done. But it is not for me to blame an individual, a team, a company, or the social and business structures that have allowed our world to revolve around an economic model that has left us modern slaves to high salaries. The perfect picture has been painted in this lucky country we call Australia and it involves coming home late to your children and losing contact with your friends because you no longer have the time or energy to give back to yourself. We put so much of our energy and effort keeping the beast turning over. We feed it our blood, sweat and tears so that it can continue to grow year on year. For it can never be big enough. It can never stop growing. It will never grow so large that it self implodes, spilling out expired executives and oozing out the skeletons of the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed people that entered so long ago.

Or will it? We are at the start of a global revolution where the user-generated economy is taking an axe to previously dominated industries. This wave of startups and change makers finally have the technology to harness a scale that was never before possible. And as it does, not only will there be a somewhat re-balancing act of the ants and elephants…but it will allow the next wave of workplace robots to evaluate what they value most and hedge their bets accordingly.

I hedged some great bets. I was gifted safety, security, stability. I had some truly great workplaces, worked with more capable people than I care to remember, attended some great events, led some big projects, and made many people feel supported directly or not. But with every action comes a reaction and so it has come that my actions and reactions are screaming for change. It is time to try something different. I walked out full of beans. With big plans and a full agenda of extra curricula activities to maintain momentum and continue on the path of saving the world from itself through education and evolution of the mind.

The new dream – how good are burritos!

It is less than a week into this new life before the first hurdle strikes. The reality that an overly ambitious deadline has been long missed is accompanied by a hasty reminder that hopes-and-dreams are no match for execution-and-action. So after a few days of mixed emotion and energy resetting, I find a present moment where I can be grateful for the space to do this. To allow the natural timeline needed for the ups and downs of life is but the greatest gift of all. There is time for healing, energy for physical and mental exertion where only you are the beneficiary, there is an openness and a longing for awe – something large in scale and nature to take our breath away and remind us that our problems are not so but thinking makes them this way.

In a “normal” set of events, we would rush through these moments – parking them in the back closet along with those elusive “stress” responses, our deepest fears, and our greatest ambitions. There is no time to consider these things as real and unique to us. There are presentations to build, children to feed and idiots in the traffic to yell at. Our energy is great in its form but it is constantly projected out to those we work for, those we love, and those we love to hate. We give this energy willingly because it feels normal. But it is us who have normalised it. We have chosen paths and words and responsibilities that mean we will forever be tied to offloading our energy for the benefit and detriment of those around us.

But this energy is ours. It can be harnessed and utilised. It can be focused and channeled, and streamlined for our benefit. And when this happens, guess what? We benefit those around us so much more. It is an old sentiment. We know it to be true. But who has time to implement it, let alone give it the head space for implementation? It is much easier to agree and then walk away. Until the next article or study comes out and we nod in agreement again and walk away all the same. Without this time and energy to strategically think about our own lives, we will always continue on the same trajectory. A comfortable path that cocoons us in paid bills, the odd “escape”, and the nice feeling we get when we know that we are colouring in between the lines.

Me post-corporate; not colouring in the lines with my “new addition” (sorry Mum).

So I cannot stay in this openness forever. Or can I? The day will come when I too have bills to pay, where the safety net I have placed below will no longer carry the weight of my living costs and when my husband decides that my old mentality of “spending” is not catching up fast enough with my current lifestyle budgeted for “minimalism”. Maybe on this day, I will be moved to find an intermediate space. One where I do not re-enter the beast and its temptations nor give into a life of debt and social isolation. I have many balls in the air, and am hoping that one or all of them land in a place that brings reward – be it personal, spiritual, financial or inspirational. I would ask you to wish me luck but if I’ve learnt anything, it’s that you have to make your own luck. But I’m superstitious so go on, wish me luck anyway!

Zig x

Collective Helplessness.

February 11, 2017February 11, 2017Leave a comment

The problem with the local news is that it tells a disempowering story. One where we are always the victim. We, the local people, should feel scared, terrified, disgusted. These atrocities are happening in our neighbourhood, in our streets, in our neighbour’s house. And there is nothing we can do. Just be on the lookout, be wary, be cautious.

It is true that these things are happening, yes. But why do we need to know? So that we can continue to be paralysed by fear and so that fear can be used again to hook us in to the cycle of fear. Watch again to see if they’ve caught the killer. Watch again to get the ratings up. Watch again so that the billionaire at the top can take his yacht out in Cannes this afternoon. If the purpose is to inform us, then there are many ways to get a suspects face out into the public; social media being the more obvious place in modern society.

But the sharing of crime and negative stories are not part of a bigger solution. By sitting in the comfort of our homes and watching this daily droll, we are indirectly supporting the cycle of continuity. If we were really appalled by these people, these behaviours, this constant stream of assault and death and horror; then wouldn’t it be more beneficial to support the circuit breakers?

Let me explain.

Mr Smith kills Mr Jones – random attack, assailants not known to each other, Mr Smith has a history of mental illness and violence, and is known to police.
Media goes wild. The attack happened in an affluent area, neighbours remark that they thought this was a “safe place to raise children”, a shot of a nice car driving down a nice street pans away.
We, the public, watch this and immediately react either consciously or subconsciously. Our mind, hearing upon the threat of death races into fight or flight mode.
We take a sub-second check of all the things that mean something to us; our family, our partner, our friends, our safe neighbourhood.
Then we react, rightfully so – fear, disgust, sadness, anger, hopelessness. Another morning or evening news session and another reason for our body to recoil into an unhealthy stress response and cement our victim mentality.

We feel sick, or worst of all, we feel nothing. We are used to seeing this on the screen. It’s a daily story that is the same but usually the characters and the location change a little. We are educating ourselves by watching. We are being presented information that we did not previously have, right? – “News”.

But what is “news” if it is only telling 0.1% of the story. Not lies but not complete pictures either. I mean, last night, one person was murdered in my city. Actually horrific, terrifying, and scary. Uncomfortable to think about. But what about the 5 million that didn’t murder last night? What about the 5 million people that cooked an average meal, watched some shitty reality tv show, spent more time checking their emails and social media than talking to their spouse and then went to bed; tossing and turning for a good 45 minutes before waking up before their alarm went off to the dog barking? What about those stories.

Well, they’re boring, aren’t they. They don’t serve to inform of us any impending danger or give us any new information or entice a certain heightened response from us. But these stories are important. Because we have forgotten them. We have forgotten that the majority of the stories not being told are overwhelmingly positive. That the majority of us are surviving and thriving and cooperating with each other as best we can. Not only does this story need to be told, it needs to be celebrated.

5 million people went about their business today without punching one person in the face. 50,0000 of those crazy fuckers even held a door open for someone. 2 million gave way to another car in a merging lane (still another million who haven’t quite grasped the concept but we are not perfect). 3.5 million walked in to their houses last night and received a hug or kiss within the first five minutes of arrival. This mass wave of connection, kindness and contact occurring between the hours of 6:00pm and 7:00pm sent a huge burst of positive energy into the world and should be applauded.

But instead we focus on the 0.1% who chose not to choose kindness. We give them air time and our energy. Which would be ok if that was energy towards a proactive response. But instead it steals a piece of our most precious asset, time, and takes with it the recoil of joy. Our victim mindsets are cemented and our learned helplessness continues. What if we saw this story of Mr Smith and Mr Jones and got to choose one of the following responses:

Press A – to donate money to this relevant local health service
Press B – to encourage your local politician to put more of government spending towards mental health and police services
Press C – to support your community in one of the following areas of early intervention; domestic violence prevention, increased education opportunities
Press D – to educate yourself further on the scientific findings of this mental illness and what the prime causes such as a neglected childhood really do to people
Press E – to feel worried about your own safety but not worried enough to do any of the above

Or you can Press F. You can vote with your button. You can turn off this skewed bullshit and you can stop lining the pockets of the people who do not care about your welfare, or your safety, or the safety of your children. You the individual garner more power than you know, more power than the billionaires and the government, and the media. But your power is magnified significantly if you use it as a collective. There are millions of you and together you must remember that the future is hope not death and misery. But only if you unplug from the negative vomit being spewed into your minds.

If you really want to know what’s happening next door, look out your window. If you really want to know what happens in your neighbourhood, look at the statistics. If you really want to know what is happening to your fellow humans on the other side of the world, look outside your mainstream channels. Search, seek, hunt for the truth. And then – do something. If you believe that what is happening is atrocious, as it often is, make the decision to become part of the solution. As we take our place as the innocent bystander, we stand as much with the perpetrators as we do the victim.

Change is uncomfortable and it takes effort. Despite this, we all must choose one option. So, if you are unable to press A, B, C or D – then at least press F and spend your energy with that beautiful, average, law abiding majority this evening.

Here’s some “serious news” to give you encouragement, Zig x

Childlike Wonder

February 4, 2017February 5, 2017Leave a comment

I have been thinking a lot lately about childlike wonder. Not so much its occurrence in the young but more so its absence in the old…er.

To me, childlike wonder encompasses so many wonderful things. It is first and foremost an insatiable curiosity and interest. It is expressed in questions and found down rabbit-holes. It does not care for your preconceptions nor expectations. Childlike wonder quite often sets its own rules yet surprisingly, never blurs its boundaries into hurt or pain. For childlike wonder is born out of love and purity. It is honest and creative, allowing itself to be expressed in both rainbows and rainclouds. It does not pretend to be pretty yet it is not afraid to be pretty either.

My childhood wonder had unbelievable artistic merit. It scribbled and painted, and got messy often. It wore things in the wrong order in the wrong sizes in the wrong patterns; it was a trend forecaster. It asked a lot of questions, read a lot of books and at times; made lots of silly jokes. My childhood wonder was a performer but it did not always perform. It would sing and dance and pull faces. It would burp out loud and laugh hysterically for minutes after. My childhood wonder was hilarious. And confident. And stupidly happy.

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So where the fuck did it go?

Did I lose it in the sleepy coma that was my middle teens? Did I lend it to a friend drunkenly at some party and forget to get it back? Did it slowly seep away from me over the course of 20 years when I stopped making time for it and acknowledging its presence? I mean, that’s where yours went right? It got left in our former chapters prior to corporate jobs and mortgages and parenthood planning?

The process has been so long and unconscious that mostly I think, we do not realise it. I mean, every three months we fill in half a page in a colouring in book – so we must still have it, right? Or last year, when we spent six months on that project at work coming up with the next “big thing” – I mean, that was pretty spontaneous? No matter that we were beaten to market twice, we were just unlucky. Or how about the other day when we spent a whole 20 minutes making things out of dough with the kids….a whole 20 minutes!!

We often try to reach into this mythical bag of ‘wonder’ as adults for more often than not, we find the bag is empty. Or it is hard to find in our busy schedule. Or perhaps we have just put it down for a while but we have every intention of picking it up tomorrow, or the next day, or just once this busy period at work is over.

But in doing so, in not finding or utilising our Wonder – we miss out.

We miss out on the messiness and the joy and the fulfillment that our Wonder brings us. We miss out of the effects of our Wonder’s flow, how it seems to make time stop altogether. Wonder is immersive and welcoming. Wonder doesn’t worry about deadlines or schedules. It doesn’t care if you’ve done your make up or had a shave that day. Wonder is accepting and all-consuming, and Wonder really hopes you wear your gumboots or neon tutu or whatever the heck else you want to wear that day. Because Wonder doesn’t care for material things. Wonder just wants you to be happy in whatever sparkly outfit allows you and your Wonder to function best in.

I haven’t made any hard or fast goals for 2017 (yet) but I have made a conscious commitment to bring more childlike wonder back into my life. I want to be more creative, more ‘artsy’, I want to write more, I want to get messy, pick up a paintbrush and maybe wear some sparkly bits on my face one day. I want to get lost in fun activities and I don’t want to feel guilty about spending time with my Wonder. I don’t want to be thinking about emails or deadlines or to do lists or chores or tomorrow. I want to get absorbed in the moments spent with my Wonder where time has no meaning and we ebb and flow through works that we love, or kinda love, or don’t love at all; a time where we don’t give up on each other.

Of course I am fearful. My material brain fears time spent on things that don’t make money. Not for indulgence but as a basic survival instinct. But I must train my brain to see the intangible value offered in watercolour, or the connection that 1000 words may bring, or the personal fulfilment and satisfaction found in a completed creative project. And who knows; maybe the two are not diametrically opposed. Maybe in fully giving in to my childlike wonder and creativity, something entrepreneurial may be born. Lord knows of the many that have gone before and the many that are still to join the industries of freedom and spirit and letting their Wonder’s loose.

I hope I have the courage to not second guess my Wonder. For whilst my Wonder is a brave soul, I am not so. Together, we will sail the high waters of expectation and judgement, and crash heavily through waves of instability and self doubt; finally surpassing the storms of social expectation and magnification. Together, we will transition into the calmer waters of childlike wonder – where we will charter all obstacles together; arm in spaghetti-bracelet arm. For we both know that when we arrive on the other side, there will be boundless amounts of purpose leaving us with nothing but feelings of overwhelming joy and fulfilment.

Love Ziggy + her Wonder x

Human Flourishing

September 8, 2016November 21, 20172 Comments

Written September 1, 2016

Today I had the best case of Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon that I can remember*. The Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon is the cognitive bias also known as the ‘Frequency Illusion’. It occurs when a person, after having learned some (usually obscure) fact, word, or phrase for the first time, encounters that item again, perhaps several times, shortly after having learned it. Arnold Zwicky, a Stanford linguist, writes that, “people who are reflective about language – professional linguists, people who set themselves up as authorities on language, and ordinary people who are simply interested in language – are especially prone to the Frequency Illusion.” I think we all know where I sit on the spectrum…but alas, I defer.

I sit at breakfast this morning in a faraway hotel on the other side of the country. I am surrounded by ageing businessmen and a few early survivors from a sports awards dinner that took place in the complex the night before. To my left is a young woman whose vocal phone conversation gives away more than I need to know about her daily objectives. A voice in my head recognises an opportunity to get ‘presidential’ and offer an introduction. I can feel her pull for face to face conversation as she sits next to me in a big and relatively empty room but my emotional incapability gets in the way and I keep my head down as I busily underline and scribble on the 70-page report in front of me.

My choice of literature this morning is not ‘news’ nor is it ‘work’. It doesn’t even tick one of the twelve ‘homework’ projects I should be completing. Instead I bury my mind in genuine interest and uneducated passion. The fields of positive psychology, policy making and world socioeconomics are taking up my thoughts again, this time in the World Happiness Report 2016. Leading experts across the fields of economics, psychology, survey analysis, national statistics, health, and public policy – describe how measurements of well-being can be used effectively to assess the progress of nations. The report reviews the state of happiness in the world and reflects a recent global demand for happiness to be used as a criteria for government policy. I will divulge my thoughts on the report at a later date but for now I must come back to the Baader-Meinhof thing.

I’m busy salivating over my apple and cinnamon pancakes as I devour the content on page 10 of the report. A word I have never seen before sticks out amongst the mundane – ‘eudaemonic’. I am completely unfamiliar with this term but its context piques my interest as I learn that its roots are in philosophy and its origins tied to the one and only, Aristotle. Here is the passage paraphrased, “…eudaimonic; having such a purpose that would be central to any reflective individual’s assessment of the quality of his or her own life.” What a fascinating thought. I circle the word, write LU (look up) next to it and move on to the pleasures of page 11. My ‘day job’ consumes the rest of the day and soon enough, it is time for me to collect my stray thoughts and head to the airport for my flight home.

The three and half hour flight passes by with ease, soothed by the flavours of wild black fruit in my travel-sized shiraz. We land and the plane rolls around the airport grounds searching for its destination gate. It is enough time to turn on our electronic devices and see what earthly delights await our returning self’s. My emails continue to become a burden as the influx of reading material becomes almost unmanageable, or at least unenticing to become manageable. Delete-delete-save-read-delete. Remind me to hire an assistant when I ‘make it’, won’t you please? Delete-read-save-save-delete-read. I silently choke on the next email as I consider my whereabouts and the distaste for alarmed states. The large green image above beams back at me from the screen and it is hard to pretend that I didn’t notice the ten letters calling out, “eudaimonia” from within. This is a sure relative of ‘eudaimonic’ if I ever did see.

The scholarly culprit is an institute after my own heart; The School of Life. The email announces the release of ‘Untranslatable Words’. This card set is a gathering of 20 of the best words from around the world that our own language has not quite yet pinned down. I envision the deck making its way in to my own household very soon and get back to the feast in front. Here is the passage as it reads, ‘Eudaemonia: Ancient Greek. Often translated as ‘happiness’, it really means the deepest kind of fulfilment, often comprising a flourishing work and love life. It’s accepted that eudaimonia can go hand in hand with lots of day-to-day frustration and pain. You can possess eudaimonia even if you are, periodically, really rather grumpy’. Such a beautiful definition. The word, the concept, the frequency; it is all beginning to dawn on me. But I have bags to collect. Class dismissed.

My luggage is unusually slow to arrive but it does so eventually and I make my way to the taxi line. The car pulls up and I’m immediately remorseful for the weight of my bag when I see the drivers age. The inside of the car is as musty as its owner and I struggle to hold my breath as I keep the window politely wound up in the cold weather. I make sure we are both of understanding regarding the end point and I slip back into the systematic elimination of my emails. Delete-delete-save-read-delete-read. The Ethics Centre, another institution I have a great fondness for (are you noticing a theme here), survives a read in the brutal cull. The content sparks my interest as it is the weekend of the Festival of Dangerous Ideas and as per my previous post, you’ll know that if I could trade my undergraduate learning for something that looked like this, I’d do it tomorrow. I scroll down the email scanning for anything further that keeps this communication from departing my inbox and BOOM, there’s that little fucker again.

‘Ethics Explainer – Eadaimonia or Living Your Best Life’. Three times in one day?! Illusion or not, it was getting a bit strange. Here is an excerpt, ‘The closest English word for the Ancient Greek term eudaimonia (yu-day-moh-nee-ah) is probably “flourishing”. The philosopher Aristotle used it as a broad concept to describe the highest good humans could strive toward – or a life well lived’.

For many years scholars translated eudaimonia as ‘happiness’ but there are clear differences. For Aristotle, eudaimonia was achieved through living virtuously – which you might describe as being good. But this is not guaranteed to make us ‘happy’ in the modern sense of the word. In fact, it might sometimes mean doing something that makes us unhappy, like telling an upsetting truth to a friend.

The eudaimon life is one where a person develops the excellences of being human. For Aristotle, this meant developing virtues like courage, practical reason, good humour, moderation, kindness and more’

So there you have it. The universe/Aristotle has spoken. Eudaemonia is demanding some of my attention and perhaps now yours too. But where do I fit this in? Do I have to take up a 6 year degree in psychology, philosophy, or politics? I have not time nor desire for the outdated formal education system though it would be remiss of me not to devote more time to further deciphering this interesting way of life. Make that thirteen projects…

ZB x

*Pun not intended.

A LIFE WITH PURPOSE

Tag: Emotional Intelligence