One of the things that limits our abilities to do something differently or be someone different, grow, change our habits, I think is “either / or” thinking. I see so many examples of that every day either in myself or others. We really need to get to a place where we can think “and” instead of “either/or.” Let me give you an example.

Last year, my husband, daughter and I were in South Africa. Even though my husband had lived in South Africa for 33 years, he had never been to Cape Town. I thought this was tragic as we have seen so much of the world, but not what was once our own back yard. He decided we would drive from Johannesburg, through the dry Karoo desert, into the lush Cape. I really wanted to say “either we fly or we don’t go”, instead I put my fears aside and agreed to “we go AND we drive.”

The drive was long, really long, but it was one of those times when you are cocooned in a bubble of steel, within a meter of each other and you just chat, read, nap, nibble on snacks and connect. I was facing a decision of leaving the Corporate world which had been really rewarding and taking a partnership in a business with two beautiful, talented human beings who have similar values to my own, but the risk equation was not lost on me. So we were sitting in the car and I was balancing the pro’s and con’s and pondering the choices, where it really was an “either/or” – either I stayed doing what I had always done, or I took a chance and did something different. We stopped at a Wimpy in the middle of nowhere and had some lunch. While we were waiting for our burgers, I said to my daughter, “That’s it, I am resigning and I am going to do this, watch this space, I am going to be really successful.” It was one of my tongue-in-cheek hypermanic moments and I did a wiggle and a grin. Her reaction was very different to what I thought, she rolled her eyes and said “Mum, that does not suit my plans.” I was confused. I did my “Huh” face. She said “Mum, I plan to have four children and I don’t need a successful granny in a suit, like the granny in “Two and a Half Men”. You need to be like my granny, crazy, funny, at home dancing with the broom.” I smiled at her. I know what she means. But we are a myriad of so many things, we are not “either/or,” some decisions definitely are “either/or” but when it comes to who we are, we have to put a big “and” in them. I do think, I can be the successful granny in the corporate business suit, who comes home dons the tracksuit and lives in the present with my grandchildren. Yet we limit ourselves and our loved ones so often by looking at everything through an “either/or” lens, forcing someone to be “either this or that.” Some of my best conundrums have been solved when I ask myself, “How can I do/be this “and” that – the out of the box thinking that happens and my own beliefs and prejudices that I have challenged, have left me in a different less judgmental zone and allowed me to make much more compassionate decisions about myself and the choices my family want to make.

So today, I challenge you, put your black and white pencils aside and allow yourself to use all the coloured crayons in your toolkit, give yourself or someone you love the power to add an “and”…

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I love all music. The fact that we as humans can create something that touches our souls in a note or two, blows me away. One of my favourite pieces of music is Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto #1. The amount of times I have driven in my car, with this music, so loud, that I have felt it in every cell of my body, is too numerous to count. I have had grandpas grin at me, when parked next to me at the traffic lights, laughing at the fact that there is a “doof, doof” happening in the car next to them, but that the music is not “doof, doof” music.

I also think orchestras are such a wonderful metaphor for team work. The most humble instrument, like a triangle, if missing from a piece, can make the piece feel incomplete. At work, I have often spoken of the fact that everyone in the team plays a role and it might only be an occasional clash of the cymbals, but without it the piece is not the piece. And when the team plays out of harmony, the sound can be excruciating, but in harmony and balance, respecting each others’ pauses and silences and getting the timing right, the piece can move mountains. I have loved working in teams where the music, the precision and timing has been awesome and the outcome and delivery superb.

It is why I choose my music so carefully on the train in the mornings, it sets the tone for my day, it reminds me that even if I am just a tiny triangle in the piece, it is key to what is being done. Or even if I am the solo pianist, leading the piece, without the orchestra, I am just a lone piano. When it all comes together with the backing of the orchestra it is fantastic! We are inter dependant, we need each other to succeed and directing our intentions and approaching life with compassion and gratitude, makes for some beautiful music…

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I know, one Martini is not always enough. Just in case you don’t get how awesome and different this band is, here is a leeeetle bit more, just one for the road….

And one more…

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On Tuesday night my husband and I went to the Regent Theatre in Melbourne to see Pink Martini, an eclectic jazz, fusion band from Portland, Oregon. They were playing with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, so it was a double treat. Or a triple one, because I got out on a school night with hubby? I love the variety of their music, their creativty and playfulness. They are a fantastic example of authenticity, knowing who they are, what they are good at, but are not shy to “borrow” what is good and beautiful, acknowledge the source and embellish it. They are natural on stage and you can really see they love what they do. In coaching leaders, I often talk about how to be more successful. Without a doubt, to me one of the ingredients of success is doing what you love and are good at, and doing it your way, with integrity and passion. Pink Martini is such a good example of that.

The song I have attached here is “Splendour in the Grass” where they sing like the Carpenters and add in a piece of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto #1 in B Flat minor. That particular piano concerto is one of my favourite piano pieces. So having them playfully add it in and spice it up was an added delight.

If you get the chance to buy one of their albums, go to a concert or just want to google them on youtube, do it, you won’t be disappointed!

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You can learn a lot from your roots just as you can learn a lot from your branches. My childhood friendships are steeped in the soil of my homeland and hold the richness of my beginnings and add colour to my present life.

In many ways, I had an idyllic childhood and in others, it was inordinately tough, but both turned me into who I am today. The beauty of technology and the last twelve months is that I have reconnected with many of my childhood buddies who spend many years with me at school. I grew up in a tiny “Dorpie” in South Africa, where everyone knew everyone else’s business and unlike the world today, no one really strayed too far from home. The village really was a village and we would never have thought of putting the word “global” in front of it. It was as “local” as you can get! Many of us went to the same schools as our mums, were baptised in the same church and played with the children of our parents childhood buddies. Some of us stayed in touch after school, but we lost touch with others and then Facebook happened. Last year, we got together for our 25th school reunion, having uncovered some of our primary school buddies that had moved away. We met with trepidation, wondering if people would recognise each other, whether we would judge each other or not have anything to say to each other. It was quite the opposite, what unfolded was a reunion in the true sense of the word.

What I learnt in this process, was that for half our class, we had been together since grade one. We had spent twelve years together giggling, grazing knees and hearts and dealing with the realities of growing up. We had spent more time together than some of us have spent with our partners. As we reconnected and got to know each other again, I have loved the fact that in the time we spent together there is a huge common set of values, likes and dislikes. We were moulded by the same teachers and experiences and even though we might have all been shaped a bit differently by the experiences, the common ground and values has created a closeness that we perhaps took for granted while we were all together at school.

So twelve months on girls, I am glad to have you all back in the fold. We may not “speak” to each other daily, we may all be scattered around the globe, but the odd comment on Facebook, the email out of the blue and the ability to pick up and leave off and pick up again is beautiful. For many of you when I think of you, I see who you are today, but more often when I talk to you I see spindly legged six or twelve year olds, who held the dreams of my own youth. Thanks for being back in my life, you were never really gone…

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Sure the weather in Melbourne is distinctly distasteful and rather tiresome. Either, too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry. So the city has had to compensate to make anyone remotely want to live here. So why do I love Melbourne?

The amazing architecture, the little laneways that have tiny cafes tucked away with eclectic art and funky decor, the cobblestones, the trams wobbling all over the city, the flower sellers, and the sporting and cultural events that always create a buzz of activity. The streetsweepers that hum through the city before any of the commuters get in and keep it inordinately clean. The trees down Collins St that are currently budding lime green leaves, the bells of St Michael’s at 12 o’clock and the clip clop of horses hooves as tourists (and locals) ride around the city getting a view of Melbourne’s many splendours. The shoe shine man near 101 Collins St, who just musically bellows one word “Shine” all day as people walk past with their heads full of their stuff.

And yesterday when everyone in their Footy jumpers lined the street with religious fervour for to watch the Grand Final Parade. 100 000 people, the City, so organised and prepared, fences up, police marshalling, vendors handing out free soft drinks, kids and grannies, passionately waiting to see their heros float past and hoping against all hopes that their team will deliver today.

When I went home last night, everything was packed away, not a single piece of litter as a reminder of the crowds who had been there. And today, everyone preparing to watch the footy, flare up the barbeque, hang out with their mates and pray that their teams come through and by to tomorrow? Everyone looking forward to next season. The parks will no longer have children kicking the footy, they will have moved on, switched their allegience and be out their with their cricket bats. For Melbourne there is a time and a season for everything and it is defined by the shape of the ball or the car flying around the Grand Prix track. Whether you love or loathe sport, Melbourne is an awesome city to live in.

Go the Saints!

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I live on an island continent some 11 000km’s from my original home. There are people I know who have also uprooted themselves and now live far from where their memories started. On Saturday, while I was the passenger in the car, being driven by my 18 year old learner driver. A buddy from my early home, far away and deep within the memory vault, passed us on the road. It was too distracting to tell my learner to hoot and I said nothing, as I did not want her turning around and going “Where?”

When I got home I posted on her wall of Facebook that I had spotted her ferrying her children to whatever Saturday had brought their way. My friend in the UK, saw the posting. Unbeknown to me, he who also lives 9000 kms away from his home, had spotted someone from his childhood neck of the woods, turning into a roundabout in the traffic!

How many times do we all experience the same things and in all the millions of people in the big cities we live in, is it really random when we bump into each other? I think not…

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Two months ago, if you had said “cadence”, I would have sung you a song; if you had said “cleats”, I would have said “Huh?” and “confidence”, I would have associated with something totally different. Now, when the Spin instructor says get your “cadence” up, my little legs go round in circles. Okay, the legs are not so little, but work with me here…I am wearing cleats for goodness sake!

Over the last few weeks, my posterior seems to have adjusted to a seat. I know to set the saddle to the top of my hip and to look down at my feet to see that just the tops of my toes are visible, when my knees are bent. I know the difference, between “ride easy” and “attack”. I can go into a class and not feel like a Bambi in the headlights and I have even mastered “push pull” on one side and then switching to the other. All of these things I would have thought impossible, especially for a girl who used to be terrified of exercising. I am not sure why, but my self esteem was not robust enough for PE classes as a young child in primary school, and often I was reduced to girlie sniveling in a PE class. This somehow, developed into never liking exercise and avoiding it as some people avoid a spider. I have never really sweated in an exercise class, today, a tiny bead of sweat hit my top lip, after 43 years people, I can confirm sweat is salty!

At the end of the 45 minute class, I had done what all the fit people in the class had done, I felt strong and confident. Probably the first time ever in an exercise sense…mmmhhh…maybe you can teach old dogs new tricks?

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I am a dog person. Sorry, Fred, the household Feline. It is true. I love you, but if my heart belongs to any group of furry mammals it is the Canine’s – with their silly smiles, their wild enthusiasm and their utter unconditional love. How can you not love a dog?

Today my friend Anne, has the terrible task of taking a beloved pet Roly, to the vet to put him down. He was born of a litter of pups with long, spindly legs, a mixture of too many breeds to mention. She still has his mum and two of his sisters. Roly has lived with her mother and has been a friend, guardian and companion to an 82 year old woman who lives alone, has a stainless steel version of independence and is still as smart as a rising Executive in a corporation. It got me thinking about dogs. What do they mean to us symbolically and what do they teach us as human beings?

I am not traditionally religious, I would consider myself spiritual, but not of the church going variety. I believe that we should live our best lives, do no harm, leave a legacy of love and the world a better place. I am somewhat of a Catholic Buddhist hippie. I have always thought that “dog” is “God” backwards, and I believe that in sending dogs to this sometimes loveless, angry, crazy planet, God was trying to create a physical manifestation of unconditional love. No matter what, a dog always love you. Cats to me are humans, they can be arrogant, self centred, sweet, changeable and selfish, but I think they have evolving to do when it comes to unconditional love. They are sometimes scornful and contemptuous of the canine, hissing at and misunderstanding that the dog’s tail wag is friendship. Rather interpreting it as their own version of tail wagging, which is anger. No matter how much our cat, Fred hisses at my own dog, she looks at him with soft, brown eyes and wags her tail gently and with anticipation of a different reaction. Unconditionally she loves that feline. Similarly it would seem to me that a God, whoever, he or she is, does with us humans. Looking at us benevolently when we fail to see what we should be seeing, that life is not meant to be hissed at, that every situation should be approached with love.

So today as my friend has the horrific task of taking unconditional love and saying goodbye to it, I feel for her across the miles. I shed a tear for her and her mum, that their friend and guardian will leave them, never having asked for anything, but having given so much.

Rest well, Roly, you were a good boy.

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I love the feeling of completeness when you have done what you have needed to do and the weekend stretches ahead of you like a lazy cat in a sunny spot. This Friday, I managed to get home at about five o’clock, an unusual event.

Melbourne’s weather was cold and grey. If Spring had sent a text, it had been rejected by Melbourne’s servers. She was ferociously hanging onto her reputation of miserable weather. By this time in Johannesburg, the sun is being a real show-off, flaunting himself like a Latino dancer to a group of gorgeous girls. It is the time of year, I wonder why I moved. Cold and rainy, when I know that elsewhere on the planet…so what do you do?

You can sit around and mope that weather is awful. Instead, I gratefully ran a bath at 6pm. Lay in it and read a magazine with a cup of tea. When I got out, I put cream on for dry skin, not the expensive one that is lovely and luxurious, but Nivea that reminds me of being a six year old and being cuddled by my grandmother, I popped on the fluffy dressing gown and the slippers and settled down with the dog at my feet. It may not be anyone else’s idea of a fantastic Friday night, but to me it was the perfect beginning to a relaxing weekend.

Monday, I am going to look you square in the eye and say “Bring it…”

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