Life’s a gift. Treasure it.

deMelloThis week, as part of my new experiment with starting each day by reading an inspirational text, I picked up ‘The Song of the Bird’ by Anthony de Mello.

De Mello was an Indian Jesuit priest, psychotherapist, and excellent story teller. He draws inspirations from the mystical traditions of the East and West.

 

I’ve been pondering over this all week:

Uwais, the Sufi, was once asked: “What has Grace brought you?”

He replied: “When I wake in the morning, I feel like a man who is not sure he will live till evening.”

Said the questioner: “But doesn’t everyone know this?”

Said Uwais: “They certainly do. But not all of them feel it.”

No one ever became drunk on the world wine.

I think de Mello was alluding to the vital difference between knowing or thinking and feeling.  I’m more like those who know it, but not feel it.  As a result, I too, fell into the common trap that most people do find themselves in – taking life for granted.

Coincidentally, on three separate occasions in the same day this Tuesday, I got reminded of the fragility of life.  Three near misses.  Each one possibly leading to a loss of life, had the accident occurred.

The first happened in the afternoon.  I was standing at the junction of a road, waiting for the lights to turn green. Right in front of me were three school girls fiddling with the ‘fidget spinners’  – apparently the latest craze for youngsters in 2017.  I’ve heard about these spinners, but it was the first time I’ve seen them.

The lights were still red.  One of the girls suddenly began walking onto the road whilst having her eyes glued on the spinner.  It was surreal, as if I was watching a movie with a little girl walking fearlessly into moving traffic with her super weapon in hand!

I felt horrified, and yelled out at her.  I don’t know why I didn’t lunge ahead to yank her off the road.

Thank God she turned around and headed back onto the curb safely, as cars narrowly passed her.  “I just saved a life!” my inner voice said in relief.

The second incident occurred as I was driving to work.  It was raining, so I drove with extra vigilance.  The lights were green.  The vehicle on my right stopped to take a right turn.  A young man jaywalked pass it, and appeared right in front of my car.  I jammed the breaks and honked.  He didn’t even turn at all, and simply walked on, totally oblivious of the possibility of being run down by a moving car.

“I just saved another life!” my inner voice uttered again, but this time with slight anguish.

How can people be so reckless?  How can they take their lives for granted?

And then, I began to rationalise.  I noticed he had earphones on, which might explain the lack of reaction.  He might have assumed that it’s safe to cross since the other car had stopped.

And lastly, on the way home after an unusually long day at work,  right before I filtered left to exit the express way, I felt a hunch that something wasn’t right.  So, I hesitated and slowed down. Lo and behold, a motorcycle overtook me on my left!

OMG! I could have ran him down, and thank God I didn’t.  I really didn’t see it coming.  It must have been in my blind spot just a few seconds ago.

I felt both relieved. And strangely, the relief was followed by a surging anger.

Didn’t he see my signal? Didn’t he know how dangerous it is to ride in a blind spot of a car? Does he not treasure his life?

Of course, I was making all kinds of assumptions and allegations. I assumed the rider was male, although I didn’t see his or her face.  I assumed the rider saw my signal and decided to ignore it.

The truth is, I was in shock after the near miss, and began to get defensive and blaming others.  I’m not proud of that, but I find it difficult to ignore the three unusual incidents in one day.

And when I read De Mello’s writings the next morning, I can’t help feeling as if God had spoken to me.

What has Grace brought me?

I now begin to feel the fragility of life. I begin to remind myself not to take the day for granted.

Life is a gift.  Treasure it, while it lasts. 

What I Think About When I’m Running

It’s 4:30am, Sunday morning. I should have been sleeping.  Instead, I’m fully awake. My heart was pounding rapidly behind the starting line on the race track of the Marina Bay Street Circuit – not far from the pole position where drivers such as Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel would eagerly await the flag-off of Singapore’s annual Formula 1 Grand Prix.

2XUFlagoff

Only this time, it’s a night race of a different kind.  Right beside me, was Jacqueline, my run-buddy who got me to sign-up for a half-marathon at 2XU Compression Run 2017.  She looked all psyched up to clock another personal best.

In contrast, I’d be glad to complete the race under three hours.  Even if my heart could take the beating, I doubt my legs could.  Honestly, running isn’t my thing.  I might begin to enjoy it had I been 10kg lighter.  I much prefer swimming, where my weight is partially carried by the water.

The music was loud and the DJ was screaming away.  But I couldn’t care to listen to what he was saying.  I glanced at my watch and tried to work out the likely time that I will cross the finishing line.    That would be 7:30am, and the sun would be up by then.

Anticipating the flag-off, a question suddenly popped up in my mind: “How did I end up here?”

“OK.” That’s how it all began.

About six months ago,  Jacqueline sent me a WhatsApp message.  It’s a photo of the race accompanied by a message: “R U interested to go for this event next yr?”

I said “OK. On. It’s a date. I’ll run with you.” And as they say, the rest is history.

What was I thinking? My usual runs typically last no more than 5 km. And I don’t even like running.  Perhaps, timing is everything.  The message came at a time when I was experimenting with the notion of “Say YES to Life.”

What began with a simple “OK” led to not just one race, but three races in three consecutive months.  The first was Run For Hope 2017 in February, which I ran with a colleague who successfully battled cancer last year, and still completed 10 km fifteen minutes ahead of me.  That was followed by OSIM Sundown Marathon 2017 in March, which I SundownWithDylan.jpgcompleted together with Dylan.  It was partly an opportunity for father-son bonding, and partly to make sure I covered another 10 km in preparation for the half-marathon in April.

Looking back, I’m glad I did those two preceding runs, without which, I wouldn’t have run 21 km with relative ease.  Interestingly, when the mind is fixed on a goal of completing a half-marathon, 10 km felt like a warm-up.  And once the body could handle 10 km, 21 km seemed achievable.  That’s the merit of raising the bar and stretching ourselves.

It’s all relative.

Now, a full marathon might be a stretch for me, but possibly merely a ‘warm-up’ for an ultra-runner.   There’s one thing that I like about solo sport such as running and swimming.  Ultimately, we compete against no one, but ourselves.  It’s about going faster or further than our last best, and not needing to worry about others.  As novelist Harumi Murakami wrote in his fascinating memoir – What I Talk About When I Talk About Running:

“In long distance running, the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.”

Murakami

In short, we each run our own race. 

Similarly, in life, we live our own adventure, and play our own games.  No need to keep up with the Joneses. No need to compare our achievements with others.  No need to look better or be more successful than our peers.  After all, most people don’t care about how happy or successful or good looking we are. They care more about themselves. And rightfully so.

A night race offers an extraordinary experience.  The scenery is spectacular.  The air felt fresher and cooler, especially after a brief drizzle that gave the tarmac a slightly wet polish.  For an amateur runner like me, three hours of running is a very long time.  The random songs from my Spotify playlist and the occasional stats from RunKeeper kept me going.  Most of the time, my mind wandered freely to all kinds of interesting places.

Some times, it drifted back to the past, serving up fond memories of adolescent years.  At other times, I pondered about the present issues at work, and thought about what I need to do in the future.

I’d wanted to capture those random musing while running.   Perhaps, I could have chatted with Siri and have it all recorded.  But I was too busy having conversation with myself to think out of the box.  It’s a silly thought … but I felt as if I was ‘blogging’ on the run.  Inspired by Murakami, “What I Think About When I Am Running “sounded like a good title for my next blog.  However, that was soon drowned out by a self-critical inner voice.

Who on earth would take an interest in what I think about when I am running?  Murakami is a famous novelist, a talented writer. I’m a nobody – just an amateur runner, a writer-wannabe.

Anyway, here are some recollections from the night run …

Why I do what I do?

Murakami picked up running shortly after he decided to be a professional writer.  Sitting all day at his desk, he began to put on weight and smoking heavily.  He quickly realised that if he wanted to have a long life as a novelist, he would need to find a way to keep fit and maintain his weight.  But that’s not why I ran.

I started jogging recreationally at the age fifteen.  For me, running was a cure for boredom, a way to kill time during the year-end holidays.  Almost every day, rain or shine, I would follow a trail that leads to the top of a hill, and be rewarded with a panoramic view of my hometown.

Gradually, it became a social thing.  I began to make friends with other joggers, mainly girls from other schools.  But what sustained the daily trail run wasn’t the girls.  It was the runner’s high I got after the workout.  Today, neuroscience tells us that the feel-good effect is attributed to the release of endorphin – a chemical that the body produces which acts like morphine (yes, running can be addictive too).  I also love the sensation of sweat dripping on my skin, and the clarity of sight and thinking that came along with the physical pleasure.

Looks like pain might have motivated me into action.  But it’s pleasure that helped sustain the effort.  Boredom can be a good motivator, and endorphin makes it stick. No pain, no gain.  And no gain, no way to sustain.

From adolescence, my mind then drifted to a casual conversation with some old friends about new year resolutions at the start of 2011.  We were all in our early forties, and thought it’s about time we started to pay attention to our health and fitness.  “Let’s start with doing a 10 km run together,” a friend suggested.  We agreed to sign up for the Standard Chartered Marathon in December.  That would give us a year to train and get ready.

However, after much procrastination, by the time I visited the website to register, the space for 10 km event had already ran out.  I was left with either the half or full marathon.  Obviously, I chose the former.  Consequently, over the year, I gradually picked up running again.  Some people are natural born runner.  I am not. I knew that if I didn’t condition the body, there’s no way I could survive the feat.

Finally, the race day came.  Despite regular training, the journey was utterly painful.  I had to pull over a couple of times and lie down on the floor to stretch my aching back.  Of course, I stopped to take lots of selfies to document my maiden run.  “No pain, no gain,” read one of the signs.  I could certainly attest to that. Punching both fists triumphantly into to air as I crossed the finishing line, I felt as if I had won the race!

In the end, the pain was all worthwhile.  But, why did I put myself through the ‘torture’?  Did I have something to prove?  Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote, “He who has a WHY to live for can bear almost any HOW.”  Similarly, in his famous TED Talk How Great Leaders Inspire Action, Simon Sinek spoke about the importance of starting with WHY.

What was my WHY for running?  The answer wasn’t apparent at first.  And I noticed that the answer changes depending on how the question was asked.  There is a subtle distinction between “Why did I want to run?” and “Why did I run?”

Motivation vs. Intention

In other words, the reason for wanting to do something isn’t necessarily the same as the reason for actually doing it.  In this case, I wanted to run because I said yes to a friend’s request.  My motivation was simply to experiment with saying ‘yes’ to life more frequently than I normally would.  And I ran because I intended to honour the commitment I’ve made to myself and my run-buddy.  I wasn’t going to back out, even if it rained.

One part of me was also curious to find out how fast I could run.  Admittedly, I haven’t trained as hard as I had intended.  Another part of me yearned to know if I were fit enough to aim for a full marathon later in the year.   The last time I did a half-marathon, I felt accomplished, relieved, yet incomplete.  I got the finisher medal, but the finisher T-shirt was awarded only to those who completed a full marathon.  The desire to do the ‘whole nine yards’ were seeded.  Moreover, I was turning 42 soon, and that sounds like a good number to shoot for.

Unlike Bungee jumping or skydiving, where only guts and money is required and all I needed to do was to jump, marathon is different.  I know that conceptually, it’s about putting one foot over another repeatedly till the finishing line.  But completing a full marathon requires discipline, dedicated training, and a great deal of perseverance.  At some point in time, when fatigue sets in, it’s mind over body.  I have huge respect for those who have done it.  They deserve to wear the finisher T-shirt with pride.  It’s earned through sweat and hours of hard work.

A few months later, when the post-race euphoria subsided and reality set in, I gave up.  I know that where there’s a will, there’s a way.  But at that time, my will was simply not strong enough to do what it takes.   With the amount of travel I do at work, I wasn’t keen to devote that many hours of my life pounding the road with my feet.  Consequently, the desire to complete a marathon remained a dream, and faded back into my bucket list.

“Perhaps someday, when I’m lighter, I’ll give it shot,” I consoled myself.  And we all know that’s BS, and that ‘someday’ is notoriously elusive.

But this year, it will change.  I’m gonna check-off that ‘Run a Marathon’ on my bucket list by yearend.

Why? Because I’m done waiting for that someday. I’m choosing to make it happen, rain or shine.

What about you? Which item on your bucket list will you check-off this year?

Sleep Can Wait. But Why Wait?

sundown2“Sleep can wait.”

What a lovely tagline.  Extremely apt for Sundown Marathon 2017.

Guess I won’t be sleeping much this Saturday night.

 

While waiting in line to collect the run pack today, I can’t help feeling both amazed and amused when I noticed this father-and-son pair right in front of me.

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As father of two boys (who are now in their teens), it’s a really heart-warming sight for me.  I salute this dad for carrying his son all the way as we were joined by hundreds of racers waiting patiently for our turns.  It took close to an hour to gradually inch our way from the start of the queue to the collection booth.

For this dad, I guess it’s an awesome time to bond with his son, albeit tiring.  I reckon, if he could run a marathon, this is probably a breeze.

The amusing thing is that, for this young boy, it doesn’t appear that sleep can wait.  He’s like a Zen Master that appeared serendipitously to remind me to listen to my body.

When tired, sleep. When hungry, eat. When thirsty, drink.

When feel like saying something, say it.

When feel like doing something, do it.

Why wait?

Would life be much simpler, if we listen more frequently to our body, our inner voice, and our intuition?

Probably yes.

And it got me reflecting and thinking about ‘waiting’ – something that I hadn’t experienced much since I discovered the joy of reading at a young age.

I’m not annoyed with waiting. Standing in line, be it to see a doctor or to clear the immigration (ironically, that’s a big part of my life due to frequent travel) doesn’t bother me at all.  I just whip out a book and be grateful of the time and space I get to read a few more pages.

Of course, now that with mobile devices, it’s much easier to conveniently fill up every second of ‘waiting time’ – either to catch up on emails or the social media.  Never mind the ‘screen addiction.’  I think the bigger danger is that we risk becoming even more detached or unaware of what’s going on around us. We become even more disconnected with ‘reality.’

In truth, had I been totally absorbed with either the phone or the book, I wouldn’t have noticed this amazing father-son pair right before my eyes.  I would have missed the many messages this boy might have for me.

Today, I learnt, again, to stop and smell the roses.

There’s beauty and truth and wisdom all around us.  One needs only to look.

So, the next time you sense the urge to escape to your phone, try doing something different.

Look around you. See what see. Hear what you hear. Feel what you feel.  Be present to the gifts that Life is offering to you!

Don’t wait. If not now, when?

 

Making a Difference on Indifference

I’ve been wrestling with the topic of ‘indifference’ all week.

What does it mean? What is its significance? And, what have I been indifferent to?

By popular definition, indifference denotes the lack of interest, concern, or feelings.

More simply put: “I don’t care.”

There are many things that I care about, and those that I don’t. I care about my family, my health, my colleagues, my clients, my country, the future state of the world, etc.

I didn’t care about Trump’s presidency.  I didn’t care about who won which Oscar awards.  And I certainly didn’t care about sexual assault of girls in India – not until what happened last week in Bhubaneswar, the ancient city of temples in the state of Odisha.

Kalinga2

Honestly, I was indifferent to the myriad of social issues in the world, and sexual assault is no exception.  But I was challenged to confront that indifference at the Kalinga Fellowship – a 5-day programme jointly organised by BRIDGE and our partners in India, where around 100 participants from India and around the world representing stakeholders in the ecosystem gathered to tackle a challenging issue: “How might government, business, NGO’s and the civil society work together to create ZERO TOLERANCE to sexual assaults on girls in the state of Odisha?”  

Being physically in India certainly made a difference.  It’s impossible to remain indifferent after hearing the brutality and inhumane acts directly from victims and survivors of sexual assault.  It brought to life, the dramas and stories depicted in the movies – right in my face. I felt disgusted, disturbed, and dismayed.

Undoubtedly, there had been some re-wiring of neurons.  I simply cannot see the world in the same way before I arrived at Bhubaneswar again.  Not ever.  At one point, after learning about (from Dr. Sunitha Krishnan, a social activist and survivor of sex trafficking) how young victims of sex trafficking were beaten and tortured to learn a new body language so as to attract and please clients, I found it deeply uncomfortable when watching the seductive dance moves performed by tribal students.

Immersing in the stark reality of this issue not only altered my mind, but made a profound difference to my indifference.  Deep in my heart, I’m beginning the feel the pain, the angst, and the quest for justice.  I swore never to be silent, and am reminded of the words of Elie Wiesel:

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.

I’m done with being indifferent.  And I’m not alone.

Margaret Meade once said: “Never underestimate the power of a few committed people to change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”  I’m convinced that an extraordinary force for good had been unleashed this week.  A force that will help reduce the incidents of sexual assault and create a safer and humane world.

I’m extremely touched and inspired by the collective and individual commitments made by fellows of the Kalinga Fellowship, and hopeful that this week had sparked off a flame that will carry the message across India and beyond in the months and years to come.

And if George Bernard Shaw was right when he said “Indifference is the essence of inhumanity,” than perhaps, a profound insight had just emerged here.

Making a difference on indifference might be an essential step towards bringing more humanity into the world. What do you think?

Now, you might not be concerned with sexual assault of girls in Odisha or India or anywhere in the world.

What are you indifferent to? What might you want to consider caring about?

Whatever it is, there is always something you can do.

I am only one,

But still I am one.

I cannot do everything,

But still I can do something;

And because I cannot do everything

I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

~ Edward Everett Hale

Disrupt, or be disrupted.

High school reunions are interesting events. They often bring back memories, both good and bad.

But there’s only so much we could do with reminiscing the past.  I find the present and the future, far more interesting.

I was at one such reunion recently.  When a dozen of high school friends in late forties gather over dinner, one subject inevitably popped up.   No, it is not mid-life crisis. We’re too busy with work and family to recognise the crisis.

It’s reinvention.

When a journalist friend shared about the imminent demise of print newspaper, my instinctive response was: “Perhaps it’s time to reinvent yourself.”  And right after I said that, I felt as if I was giving the same advice to myself.

The topic of reinvention isn’t new.  It’s just that, the need for reinvention seems to become ever more pressing now, for organisations as well as individuals.

I believe it was Clayton M. Christensen who first coined the term ‘disruptive technologies’ in 1995, the same year that I started my working life.  Two decades later, today, it has become a new norm.  And the word ‘disrupt’ has become sort of a buzzword, in the same way that ‘business process reengineering’ and ‘transformation’ had been in the 80’s and 90’s.

We now live in the age of disruption.  The impact of technology-enabled disrupters such as AliBaba (world’s most valuable retailer that has no inventory), AirBnB (world’s largest provider of accommodation that has no real estate), and Facebook (world’s most popular media company that creates no content) is felt globally.  CEO’s and business leaders are sleepless over the threats and opportunities presented by big data, artificial intelligence, and the internet of things. Coders and techie geeks are supercool and in sharp demand.  So are gamers and data scientists.

The writing is on the wall, literally.  I actually saw that in the office of a promising tech start-up.  And it reads: “Disrupt, or be disrupted.”

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It’s innovate or dissipate. Adapt or die.  Even companies with over a hundred years of success can vanish rapidly.  A popular example is Kodak, that didn’t survive the advent of digital photography.  In contrast, its rival Fujifilm remains strong and relevant, by adapting their knowhow in film processing to venture successfully into cosmetics and skincare.

What is true for businesses is equally so for individuals, if not more.

Reinvent, or be retrenched.

In other words, we need to be willing to periodically reinvent ourselves, or be prepared to be fade into obsolescence.  The roles we play in organisations may change, but one thing remains constant – the need to create value. Those who successfully evolve to create value for the organisation in the ‘new world’ will remain relevant, and possibly more valued.

Unless insulated from competitive pressures, most organisations need to continuously drive for greater efficiency and effectiveness.  That hasn’t changed for centuries.  Those who don’t or fail to reinvent themselves, shall be vulnerable to the brutal effects of automation, outsourcing, and right-sizing.  It’s nothing personal.  Even family-owned businesses are not spared.

The casual dinner conversation has sparked off a serious thought.  A timely wake-up call.  It got me mulling over these few questions:

  1. Is it time to reinvent myself, again?
  2. If not now, when?
  3. How can I radically create more value in the work that I do now – for my clients, my company, and myself?
  4. If I’m not constrained by past experiences, who would I be and what might I do differently?
  5. How can I best contribute to the betterment of the world?

I have a strong bias for experimenting, and learning through doing.  But I also find occasionally pressing ‘pause’ and doing a little disruptive introspection’ can do a lot of good for the soul.

Disrupt, or be disrupted.  I choose the former. What about you?

I invite you to ponder over these questions too.

If not now, when?

Another day to listen and love and walk

There’s something peculiar about celebrating birthdays.  It gets us thinking about stuffs that we don’t normally think about.

Morbidly, I thought about the inevitable.

Death. The one thing that we all have in common, eventually.

Coincidentally, a close friend who shared the same birthday had exactly the same thought.  We both imagined our funerals (if there was one) to be a celebration for the living, and not a solemn mourning for the deceased.

Let there be tears of joy, not grief.  Throw a big party where family and friends would gather to rejoice in the gifts of life.

It turned out that, pondering over mortality occasionally can be immensely beneficial.  I learnt to be more appreciative of every moment I have.  I could not resist the urge to dig out a favourite book that helped me survive the tumultuous adolescent years.

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The following lines taken from Hugh Prather’s Notes To Myself had kept me wondering:

But it’s morning.  Within my hands is another day. Another day to listen and love and walk and glory.  I am here for another day.

I think of those who aren’t.

What does it mean to be here? What does it mean to have friends? What does it mean to get dressed, to have a meal, to work? What does it mean to come home? What is the difference between the living and the dead?

I sometimes wonder if the “dead” are not more present, more comfort, more here than those of the living.

Reading that, I felt incredibly blessed to wake up to another day.  Some didn’t.

Honestly, I don’t know how to practically live each day to the fullest or as if it was my last.  But at least, I could strive to be more fully present to the here and now – with the people I am interacting with, the things I do, and even with myself.

Today, I shall listen more intentionally, love more intensely, and walk more mindfully.

That’s good enough for me.  What about you?

Number 47, Midpoint and Counting Down

Age is just a number. So they say.

It’s a number that increases every year (coincidentally, along with my weight and waistline).  Clearly, it violates the conventional wisdom of “What goes up must come down.”47

I turn 47 today – another step closer to 50.  I don’t know why, but I simply can’t help being fascinated by number 47.  I thought, “Why not start the day by swimming 47 laps?”

I put on my swim trunks and headed straight to the pool, and uncovered some remarkable insights.

As I counted each lap, starting from 1, and then 2, 3, 4 … something miraculous occurred at the 24th lap – the midpoint between 1 and 47.  I felt as if I was on top of an imaginary hill, thinking, “From here on, it’s all downhill.”  The first half is done. The second can’t be that hard.

With that in mind, every stroke felt unusually light and easy.  I glided through the water with effortless ease, and experienced what psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, called ‘flow’ – a state in which one is fully immersed or absorbed in an activity.    That feeling lasted for quite a while, till something else happened when I completed the 37th lap.

With 10 more laps to go towards the final goal of 47, I started counting down instead.  10, 9, 8 … and lo and behold, the effect was surprisingly awesome.  A sudden surge of energy and strength filled my arms and legs.  I crawled even more strongly, as if a second wind had carried me till the end of the 2.4km swim.  Strangely, I didn’t even feel exhausted at all!

I know it’s psychological – a mental game I’d played with myself.  But what I had experienced physically was very real.  Today, I learnt two vital lessons – the significance of midpoints, and the power of counting down.

Could 47 be the midpoint of my life? And would I be cruising to the end with strength, confidence, and ease, if I were to start counting down?

Seems like another few questions to fuel my inquisitive mind …

Meanwhile, out of curiosity, I looked up the Internet and discovered that in numerology, number 47 is about relationships.  Teamwork, pulling together, intuition, companionship, romance, cooperation — all are in the realm of number 47.

I wonder if this was God or the Universe nudging me to pay attention to the most vital aspect of my life – relationships.

After all, in the end, all that mattered, would not be the possessions we acquire, accumulate, or hoard but the relationships we have with those that matter.

I continue to count my blessings each day, and be grateful of the many relationships I’m enjoying.  And I hope you will find time to count your blessings and appreciate your loved ones too.

How Facebook Almost Ruined My Marriage

I’m still amusingly shocked by what I actually said to my wife last week.

You might find it silly. A Freudian slip, possibly.  But it’s true. And definitely music to Mark Zuckerberg’s ears.

We had a heated argument over what I considered trivial – the kind that loving empty nesters do when they don’t fret over their children.

In the heat of the moment, as she interrogated (or curiously asked) me on the motivations for my weekly posting on Facebook, I answered with gusto, Because I AM an active Facebook user!”

Yes. That’s who I am, and that’s what I do.

We both burst into laughter. It’s absolutely hilarious.

What a nutcase narcissistic social media maniac I’ve become!

Or maybe, not.

At the start of 2017, I began an experiment on gratitude.  Rather than reflecting once a year as part of our annual family yearend gratitude-cum-visioning ritual, I started to count my blessings daily. The initial idea was to keep a daily gratitude journal.   It didn’t take long for me to realise that sitting down to reflect and write proved to be more difficult than jumping into the pool and swim 20 laps every day.

“There’s got to be another way to do this,” I pondered.

The last time I successfully picked up a new daily habit was when a colleague nominated me to take up a 22 Days Push-up Challenge (#22PushUp) – a campaign to raise awareness on war veterans suicides due to post-trauma stress disorder (PTSD).  The rule of the game was simple.  Over 22 days, each day, I was to do 22 push-ups, capture it on video, post it on Facebook, and nominate another to the challenge.

What started with a tinge of regret (I shouldn’t have liked her FB post) turned out absolutely amazing!  I never knew I could pull it off, especially on days when I was flat out exhausted after work.  But the drive to honour my word, the encouragement from friends, to fun of roping in my boys and brother,  and the inspiration from watching those I subsequently nominated kept me going.

It was the first time I managed to keep up with doing something new every day for about month.   Reluctant to give up a habit that took much determination and sweat to develop, I carried on with daily push-ups beyond the 22 days.  I felt strong and fit, but eventually had to stop due to a wrist injury.

But not all went to waste. I learnt a valuable lesson on habit formation.  And it’s not the usual motivational BS like will power, perseverance, or determination.  It’s not the “It takes 21 days to rewire the brain” kind of pop-psychology.  And there’s no need to get overly philosophical – although I’m a huge fan of Friedrich Nietzsche who famously said: “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

What I’ve learnt, is simply … the power of structure. Having an enabling structure can make the performance of the habit easier.  22 push-ups isn’t easy, at least for me.  But the entire act of pressing record on the phone, get down and just do it, and then post it on FB is relatively simple.

So, I applied that learning to my attempt at cultivating a habit of gratefulness.  I started posting my reflections at the end of each week on Facebook (#CountYourBlessings).  After four weeks of sharing photos of significant moments and people, receiving a few hundred likes, and exchange of comments with friends with whom I hadn’t been in touch for years, I hit the first snag.

My wife wasn’t too pleased.

She’s concerned with the risk of chronicling our family life online, and preferred a little more privacy.  Whilst I think her concerns are valid, I have a higher risk appetite, and lower need for privacy.  There all kinds of FB users.  I’m just not that type that post picture of cats or share videos of Trump parodies.  So, we have our differences.  Not totally irreconcilable.

I promised to be more discrete, but I’ll carry on, at least till Week 52.  Why?

Because I AM an active Facebook user.  It’s that simple, and more …

i-am

The second lesson, and possibly a more significant thing I’ve learnt about human change and habit formation, is identity.  Co-incidentally, I chanced upon a chapter in The Impact Code (a book I’m currently reading) in which author Simon Tyler wrote:

There are few phrases as powerful, as evocative as: “I am …”

“I am …” reflects, or sets the tone for, the activity of your life. When you say and feel “I am …”, you release unstoppable springs from within.

The release of unstoppable springs from within – that totally resonated with how I felt.

I am adventurous … someone who loves challenges and new experiences.

I am curious … someone who loves experimenting with new concepts, behaviours, ways of seeing and being.

I am a man of integrity … someone who keeps his words.

I am grateful … someone who counts his blessings regularly (and not shy to share it online).

I am unstoppable (at least on this weekly #CountYourBlessings experiment on FB)

Honestly, I am not sure how well this will impact my marriage.  But I am open to whatever lessons that Life sprinkles into our lives.

I am a huge fan of Nietzsche (as you know by now) – who also famously said: “That which does not kill you us makes us stronger.” I remain hopeful that if Facebook doesn’t completely ruin our marriage, it will strengthen it.

I blog, therefore I am.

OMG! My last post was in January, 2013. And that’s the third post including the auto-generated “Hello World!” when this domain was registered in March, 2011.  Obviously, an average frequency of 0.333 posts per year for the last 6 years definitely isn’t enough to make me a blogger. A blogger wannabe, maybe.

But this can change. And it will.  And here’s why …

In our family, we practise a wonderful annual yearend ritual, first initiated by my wife several years ago.  The process is simple.  We gather as a family, review the vision we have set for the year, reflect on the accomplishments and experiences that we are grateful for, and take turns to share out loud.  And then, we craft a vision for the following year, starting with the ‘Top Ten’ list, share it, narrow down to the ‘BIG 3,’ and create a vision board to keep us on track.

Call it ‘Law of Attraction’ or ‘Power of Vision,’ the vision board has its magic. Last year, all three of Sean’s (my eldest son) vision came true!  His proudest moment was when his team emerged champion in the national interschool floorball championship.  As parents, my wife and I are super proud of and happy for him too.  But I couldn’t say the same for myself, for I was still stuck at the second last step – picking my BIG 3.

I can’t help thinking that the Universe’s message for me was “Focus, focus, focus.”  Ironically, my last post was titled “To enhance focus, speed up.”  [Note to self: Read my own blog once in a while.]

So, for 2017, I’m inspired and determined to make ‘Blog weekly’ one of three major things to get done.  Ironically, it took me a month to get to this point (procrastination is one of my strengths), but I’m grateful that I finally did.  Better late than never.

And this isn’t some new year resolutions that get forgotten by February.  I’m conscious that it could be something that will transform the very core of who I am.  And here’s why things are gonna be different …

In truth, I’m really sick of carrying forward the ‘Restart blogging’ from one year to the next.  I’m done with repeatedly feeling the shame of not taking action to live out my vision.  I don’t want to be merely a dreamer, but a doer that realises his dreams as well.  And I don’t want to let myself down, again.

OK, to be fair, I’m not a total failure at this vision-to-action thing.  I did manage to tick off a few things in my vision for 2016. Skiing with my family in Japan, check. Run 10 km, check.  Swim Ironman distance, check. Learn yoga, check. Reduce weight to 78 kg? Hmm, perhaps a more realistic target for 2017 will drastically increase my likelihood of success.

So, back to blogging. Will turning it into one of my BIG 3 help? What will it take for a blogger wannabe to become a blogger?  And what will it take to become an excellent blogger?

Aristotle once said,

“We are repeatedly what we do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit.” 

Perhaps it’s as simple as starting to do it, and then keep on doing it, learning as we do, continuously developing ourselves, and practice, practice, and more practice.

What do you think? And what have you put off doing, that might benefit from a bit more focus?

Now that I’ve publicly declared my intention and given blogging another shot, only time will tell if I do indeed honour my words, at least to myself.

Fast forward to December 2017 … I’m seeing myself expressing my gratitude for all the encouragement and feedback from readers like yourself, and feeling even more inspired to write for the rest of my life.  Thank you for reading, for without you, this would be another page of my unread diary.

I blog, therefore I am.

To enhance focus, speed up.

Tonight, as I raced up the steps leading up to the stadium to give my heart a good workout, I noticed a remarkable increase in my focus on where I was stepping.  The image which immediately sprung to mind was an F1 driver giving 100% concentration to what he was doing, and shutting out from everything else in the world. A slight distraction may mean a fatal crash. In my case, perhaps a mis-step leading to a painful tumble.

I wonder if that observation applies to business and leadership too. To get people to stay focused, leaders need to up the tempo and drum up the pace.