Zulu Wisdom

Each day brings with it a gift. It is our choice whether to take it or not. If we accept it, no matter how small it might be, nothing will be quite the same as it was yesterday. If we do not take the gift it will leave with the day. But if we try to take more than the day offers, we break the rhythm of patience. That which grows slowest lasts longest. – Zulu Sangoma

I was kissed by an elephant named Temba…

To celebrate our 4^th anniversary, Ash & I went away for a well-deserved break to Hartbeespoort dam over the long weekend … 4 days / 3 nights… glorious.

Apart from spending some alone time with my love, away from the business, the e-zine, the websites, the kids, etc. the highlight for me was a trip to the Elephant Sanctuary on Friday – Heritage day.

Since childhood, I have had a fascination with elephants: I often think that if I had been born into a North American Indian tribe, the elephant would have been my totem and spirit guide. My bookcases are filled with literature about them and my home, particularly my study is crammed with elephant figurines including the Ganesh, the Hindu elephant god of new beginnings.

What started out as a cool outing became a spiritual experience that fed, and still feeds, my soul…

With Ash in tow, faithfully capturing each precious moment on DVD and camera, our trusty guide Ignatius led us through a magnificent experiential journey of elephantine proportions that quickly became a journey of self-discovery.

Following some essential theory about teeth and age and statistics, we got to feed and elderly lady called Masadi, who was having a day off. Feeding an elephant is an extraordinary process … one scoops up a handful of pellets (made up of various plants, tree bark and other elephant delights) and funnel it into her moist dexterous questing trunk … talk about being fed through the nose, she then scoops this mixture up into her waiting mouth and insatiably demands more.

Next stop was an interactive meet & greet with three elephants: Khumba, Mvusu and Temba. After a brief introduction by each handler, each elephant performed it’s specialty … a jump from Temba; an incredibly difficult feat for a 10 year old 2 ton female elephant, kneeling from Mvusa, an 11 year old mischievous male elephant and an ear splitting trumpet on demand bugle from Khumba, the 16 year old matriarch of the clan.

Now came the opportunity to handle, feel and interact with the trio … I was off like a rocket. First came Khumba: guided by the know-how of her handler Zachariah, I experienced the gentleness, wisdom and dignity of the old girl as she patiently endured my hands-on experience of her surprisingly soft skin, her hard tusks, her agile trunk, her wispy tail, her soft ears and her squashy feet.

Similarly with Mvusa and lastly with Temba.

With Temba I experienced a connection that went beyond species: staring deeply into her perceptive eye, I felt as if I was communicating soul to soul. With her amazingly nimble trunk, she sought out my hand and held on … like holding hands with an innocent, guileless, timeless, ancient, playful child: and then the kiss …

Her trunk coiled up, flattened itself on my right cheek and puckered creating a slimy, snotty, slurp. What a blessing …. to be kissed on the cheek by an all but wild African elephant.

Then off to walk with them … Temba again, gently holding my hand and following me around the paddock and just before lunch, the opportunity to ride up on an elephant’s high, broad back, like a king.

Temba again … in chatting with her handler, Mathew, he shared with me that Temba means ‘Trust’.

I certainly felt trusted by this huge semi wild African goddess who had welcomed me into her space; shared her essence with me and allowed me to ride high on her back … lord of all I surveyed.

That night, as I lay dozing next to my soul-mate, Ashleigh, I reflected on the experience and its relevance to my life and on my next step…

Time to let go; resign as General Manager of the Universe, trying to control and micro-manage every last detail around me, worrying at each cautious step, and finding fault with the details…

Time to leap… and trust, after all Temba means trust, and I was kissed by an elephant called Temba!

If you were Coaching yourself, what would you say…

OMG, I’m effectively down to 8 clients! Panic attack … Calm down.
You’re not dead yet; you’ve been through worse.

 You know what happens when you go into a flat spin’ … You undo all the progress that you have made: you push it all away.

 If you were coaching you right now, what would you tell yourself?
Challenge the assumption: stop P’ing all over yourself.

 So?
This is not Permanent: the last 3 months have been great; you built your coaching practice up to a core of 20 quality clients; you can do it again … You’ve done before – you can do it again.

 And?
This is not Pervasive: your relationship is strong; you have finally klapped the flu; opportunities are opening up; your new project is developing well…

 OK …
And this is not Personal: your clients moved on because they got what the needed – you did that; you made a difference … They even  told you so!

 So: you have everything you need to turn it around! All you need is some new clients … People who need help to shift their stuff and get unstuck…

 You’ve been successfully coaching people for 9 years now: where did you find them? So go find some more …”Stand in the traffic” again – get found.

 Every now and then I need to have a little chat with myself … It keeps me honest!

Self Coaching Card Focus for this week:

Self Coaching Card Focus for this week: Home & Family – Priority
http://ow.ly/1Y2wb

Huge breakthrough for my Coaching Client…

Huge breakthrough: my Coaching client came to the conclusion that ALL he has to do is change his mind … Way cool! http://ow.ly/1V0Mv

Are we our own worst enemy…

Client who really needs help rescheduled – lame excuse. Sad when people who really need help can’t commit to themselves. http://ow.ly/1STFV

Hootsuite making things easier to add mu

Hootsuite making things easier to add multiple posts …

Let your life be your message…

As I was wading through my emails today, this quote from Mahatma Gandhi jumped out and grabbed me by the throat.

Swirling feelings of inspiration, revelation, and, I must admit … self-reproach.

It struck me that as a Life & Business Coach, my life should be my message. My life, and how I live every aspect of it should be a shining example of what I strive to ‘catalyse’ for my clients.

Easy to say, but not so easy to do … after all the very fact that we are wandering around down here in our ‘earth suits’ means that we are still a cosmic work in progress. I am reminded of the story from Zen of a great man who climbs a mountain to seek the answer to how to live his life so as to achieve enlightenment. “Do no evil, do only good”, replies the Zen master at the top of the mountain. “Even a child knows that” says the great man in exasperation. “Yes”, responds the Zen Master, “But not even a grown man can do it”.

After all, even JC got mad and withered a fig tree when it failed to produce figs for him, and kicked and whipped the moneylenders from the temple in Jerusalem… so how can ne expect to be perfect?

Still and all… Ghandiji’s quote struck me as an ideal worth striving for…“Let your life be your message”.

Figure out your message and set up your life to express it… So what do I really want to say? If I had the privilege of a five minute slot to address all the people of our planet, what would I tell them? I would tell them that we are not meant to be slaves and victims of our circumstances, but to be creators of our own solutions…

Challenge to myself…Set your life up to be THAT message!

A humbling experience.

I had the opportunity to take my Dad to the clinic today. .. For those among us who have the good fortune not be dependent on state medical assistance this is a truly humbling experience.

Despite the fact that the doors only open for business at 07:00, the queue begins to build from 03:00.

All over Johannesburg and its surrounds sick and ailing people, most of them elderly rise well before dawn and make their way, mostly by bus, taxi or train – the lucky few have their own transport or are lifted by a loved one, by diverse routes to the Joburg Gen.

Like patient, docile ‘children’ they stand in line waiting for the doors to open. Finally around 07:00 the doors swing open and the crowd shuffles through the doors like the children of Israel passing through the parted Red sea, splitting off to go to the speciality that caters for their particular ailment.

Then something phenomenal happened…

Once the crowd had handed in their “hospital appointment cards” and taken their seats on the orange plastic chairs in the waiting hall, a little lady, presumably on the staff, stood to address the group. In her patient, cheerful way she greeted the group and informed us that today was her late mother’s birthday, before going on to encourage us to turn to our faith. To ask for help in these times of personal, cultural as well as national strife. “Ask for help” she said, “He is waiting for you with open arms”. She then went on to explain the procedures etc., offer advice and handle any questions.

I must shamefully admit to feeling slightly amused at first by her simple, honest and heartfelt words, but after observing the affect of her genuine good cheer and loving care on the seated group, I came to the painful realization that this was exactly what these people, who with pain, grief and suffering as their daily bread needed.

Her words of hope and encouragement were so appreciated that the simple “Thank you” uttered by many seemed disproportionate to the impact of her words.

How sad that what so many of us take for granted and bluster about should we feel that we are not getting our due, or that our due is delayed, even for a little while, is so gratefully received by those in such need.

A harsh lesson when we are suddenly faced with much we really have and how ungrateful we are with what we take so lightly for granted.

Strut your stuff…

For my sins I am a Drummie Dad. In the season, January to July, most Saturdays are spent at one Drummie event or another supporting my middle daughter Cathryn.

Don’t get me wrong… The displays are amazing. The uniforms are gorgeous, the choreography is stunning and the prop work thrilling.

Everybody: the girls, the trainers and the Drummie Mom’s work really hard to pull off a fresh coup each week.

But seeing the same girls perform the same displays over and over week after week, I run the risk of becoming bored, jaded, and judgementally indifferent.

So to keep myself interested I watch the people. I love watching the people.

Drummie people are amazing … Especiallly the girls. The passion that goes into this sport is refreshing in a world of so much negativity, fear and self loathing.

I always get a kick out of one girl in particular. Not your average drummie … Ths girl presents an imposing figure on the field. That’s a polite way of saying that she is big. Yet as she uninhibitedly struts her stuff the biggest thing about her, apart perhaps from her heart, is her smile.

Certain people may scoff, or smirk or even whisper unkind critcism, but she just gets out there, opens her heart, flahes her dazzling smile and does her thing.

This old world of ours needs more people like her. People who just get out there and do their thing and dare the world to scorn.