Centre of the universe?

Pinned to a wooden beam above my desk is a single piece of paper. The edges curl a little. Upon it is written a question. Each time I read it I search a little more for an answer. I hope I'm getting closer.

The question is this:

"What is the question at the centre of this organisation, around which everything else revolves?"

It's not a mission statement, nor a list of values all beginning with the letter "P". Yes, mission and values matter, but this is a question. What is it about questions which propel our thinking onward, keeping us curious? I wonder.

Copernicus - wondering whether to let
the world know it wasn't quite
where it thought it was.

The question was inspired by the story of Greek astronomer Claudius Ptolemy who in 127 AD postulated that the earth sits bone idle at the epicenter of our universe whilst the sun, moon and other planets dance around it.  Ptolemy's map shows the planets doing drunken loop-the-loops around the earth. Orbital acrobatics. For over 1,400 years his theory was assumed correct.
 Fourteen hundred years!

That's longer than it takes to get a dentist appointment.

Then Polish mathematician-astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus observed the earth in fact rotated daily on its axis and revolved yearly around the sun. I expect 1,400 years of a skewed understanding of the solar system was hard wired in people's thinking. They believed what had always just been believed. Imagine daring to explain this new 'heliocentric' discovery to the King and Pope, and all without the aid of PowerPoint. Copernicus was not popular. Change wasn't all the rage in 1543. But his courage to challenge assumptions opened up a whole new way of understanding the system within which we live.

Why bother with the question? Because I am animated about something. In the last decade the number of young people nationally who are prescribed anti-depressants has doubled (source: World Health Organisation, 2016). Self-harm, anxiety, stress and depression continue to escalate and the thing is, nobody is surprised. This bothers me.

It bothers me that the mental health of this rising generation is spinning so dangerously out of control. Imagine the impact on our future workforce. Our social systems are doing loop-the-loops, dancing madly around deeply-held assumptions that evidently are not enriching the well-being of young people. Assumptions about assessments and measurements and standards. Some helpful, but not all.  

Lifespace Trust works to see the "mental wealth" of the next generation released, because the challenges on our tiny spinning planet are very real:

Climate change and finite resources; political unrest; international tensions and terrorism. Time is precious. X-Factor doesn’t have the answer.

Young people are not just younger, they are also newer with insights adults haven't considered. I wonder, in our information-saturated society, are we giving them the time, space and skills to think? To shift from “having thoughts” (noun) to knowing how “to think” (verb) for themselves. Has knowledge based on the past replaced the wisdom we need for the future? It would have been easier for Copernicus to keep quiet. Let the planets do their thing. Shrug his shoulders and move on.

Jotted at the bottom of my piece of paper, in hurried scrawl, is a response to my question:

"How else can we help every young person connect to their highest potential?"

Now, what would that be like?

Coming to your senses

"Wherever you go, there you are" Jon Kabat-Zinn

Have you ever caught yourself using that fateful phrase: "I can't wait until..." Or its twin culprit "If only it was..."?

 

Yes it's important to have things to look forward to - good stuff planned ahead can provide a real energy lift. However, sometimes it's just too easy to chop out large chunks of our lives just existing from one holiday or weekend to the next!

During my first day back at work after the summer holidays I overheard someone say "I can't wait until Christmas!" At that point there were still 114 days to go. I had to work it out on a calculator. I felt sad at the thought of wanting to forward wind your life 16 weeks. The days will only ever arrive one at a time and the future will never appear any faster than that. There's no App for that, no 'iRush' software, whatever brand of mobile phone you have.

 

One simple curious day at a time, thank goodness, for each day has enough trouble and surprise of its own.

My uncle (in wheelchair), now
living with the illness MND,
but who hasn't given up
on still racing in marathons!

Over the past year I have had contact with several people who are now living with a terminal illness called Motor Neurone Disease (MND), my Uncle Andrew being one of them (see picture). A recurring theme among them is that the cruel and unwelcome arrival of this fatal degenerative condition has brought an unexpected joy. Yes, really. Joy.

 

As their limbs weaken, their speech packs up and their taste buds fade (by the way, MND is uniquely different for each person with it), it has forced them to...slow...down. In the face of total deterioration of their bodies, they have been confronted with how vital it is to experience every single moment to its fullest, while they can. As author Jon Kabat-Zinn once said, we need to get out of our heads more often...and into our bodies. My friends with MND can teach us all something life-giving.

Consider the difference between rushing through our lives, and actually noticing what we are experiencing through our senses:

 •  Instead of just eating (how mindlessly do we eat sometimes!), what if we notice the taste of each mouthful? Eat slower, taste more.

•  Instead of driving everywhere, walk somewhere. Give the brain a chance to catch up.

•  Don't zip past blackberry bushes, pick some, squish them like a two year old boy does.

•  Stand outside in the evening, close your eyes and notice what you hear. Birds? Chatter? Aeroplanes? Stay still until you can hear and sense your own breathing. Let your breath breathe you. Feel the ground beneath your feet. Remind yourself that this is it. This is your life you're in.

•  Give yourself five minutes to stare at the night sky. Notice the magnitude of life above us all.

•  As autumn progresses, take the chance to smell the roses.

•  In a conversation, allow a moment of silence and smile for the sheer sake of smiling.

Were we really designed just to lurch from one stress-filled day to another? I don't think so. Is there a better way? Yes, and it's right under our noses and at our fingertips. We need to come back to our senses and I mean that 100% literally. To pay closer attention to what we see and hear and touch and taste and smell, for each day can reveal unexpected joy.

Isn't this what we'd want to teach our young people?

 

 

Adapted from the original article featuring in Connection magazine, Oct 2013 (c) Chris Spriggs 2013

Mindfulness image courtesy of mentallywell.co.uk

Mentoring: Rear View Mirrors

It counts as one of the most, let's say "unexpected" days of my life. 


The paintballing trip for our students didn't look too promising when we had to pull our minibus over on the way there.  One unconfessing 15 year old was shooting a BB gun at the driver's head.


I was the driver.


From there things escalated into chaos, or de-escalated into hell, depending on whether you're standing on your head, because I may as well have been. Between the three staff - all of us respectable teachers from the College - we managed to round up most of our students just before the knife got used by a rivalling school gang. But not before the plank of wood with rusty nails in had connected with the leg of a kid from another School. Great planning this was. Don't ask me whether the plank 'knocked any sense' into them. 


Paintballing guns. Knives. Hoodies. BB guns. Street talk and odd hand waving gestures. I had been cast into a low grade Snoop Dogg video, when all I really wanted was Snoopy.


Reverse Gear


With the College minibus door finally shut, and a dozen roudy-singing-so-loudly-you'd-think-they-were-drunk students piling on top of each other, I stuck it into reverse gear.


That's when I had a fresh appreciation for the sturdiness of trees.


And the not-so-sturdiness of College minibuses. 


Imagine the scene: Twelve rioting teenagers trapped in a minibus that's collided with a tree in an attempt to escape World War IV. The words 'I'm a teacher get me out of here!' would rarely have been more appropriate. Thank goodness all this is nearly 10 years ago.


Rear View Mirrors Are Under-Rated


Ah, the Rear View Mirror. It's an under-rated thing, isn't it. Along with humming. Under-rated.


But there is such tremendous value in stopping and looking at what's behind us, now and again. Not just in the literal Rear View Mirror which thankfully come with most models of vehicle in the UK, even minibuses. I mean the metaphorical one that is in our imaginations. The Rear View Mirror of Mentoring, as it were. 


It's all too easy to remember and rehearse today's problems and forget that some of yesterday's or last years have gone. D i s a p p e a r e d.  Hey, how did that happen? 


Quick Thinking Task


1. Pick a problem you've come through - Something where you are now living in the light at the end of the tunnel. 
2. Enjoy the fact you're through it. Smile. Deep breath. Hey, you're through it!
3. Now think about what specifically helped you through... Can you list 5 things? 
People? Behaviours? Mental strategies? Risks? Changing something? Keep going 'til you reach at least five.
Because there's vital things to learn and carry with you for whatever you face next. You will face another mountain, challenge or problem, and part of your toolkit for moving forward is right there in the Rear View Mirror.


I like the fact that - right now - I am at home and nowhere near a dented College minibus. Or a rioting band of teenagers. 


I've learned to look around for help a little more often, to recognise my limitations a little more quickly - including minibus driving - and if something stresses you out then you've got to do what you can do, and not what you can't. Those lads also taught me that disasters aren't usually personal however much they can feel that way. Oh, and I've learned that now and again it's really good to pause and look back. 


Because you never know if someone's just planted a 100 year old oak tree next to you.