Genergy

Your secret bits

Have you ever wondered what your best sides are? Ever taken a moment to quietly ask which of those things about you actually get the best out of others? The things you can ‘do’ can be useful. But more important and infinitely more powerful are the things you actually ‘are’. What are they? And how can we spot them? One dark night 10 years ago, a very interesting man started to explain.  He was worth listening to. He was one of the most mysterious and interesting men I’ve ever met. I’m not allowed to say his name.

About 10 years ago, I decided to do something I’d always wanted to do. I decided to go back to university and conduct some postgraduate investigative research of secret intelligence (e.g. spies). And after a couple of months, I one day received a phone call. My academic supervisor (a Professor) was telling me I’d been invited to ‘an evening’. A guest speaker would present something and then we’d discuss it as a group. He couldn’t tell me any more, but would I fancy going and playing along with this? Errr…. Yes please.

The bells should have started ringing, but they didn’t. I was too busy working my socks off to listen to my intuition.

A few days before this ‘evening’, I was told I didn’t need to where a suit, I was told which town we were going to, I was told overnight accommodation had been booked for me.  I was told the theme for the evening’s discussion, and I was told that there would be a small group of people who ‘shared my interests’.

As the Professor and I arrived at this special building, a man in smart clothes greeted and addressed us as ‘sir’ and took us to a special room. It was a lovely room. A small room. Around it, there were 6 men, with 2 spare seats for me and the professor. We were shown to our seats. And as I was led, I noticed that I was not only the only one NOT wearing a very smart suit, but I was also at least 20 years younger than anyone else present.

And as I sat down, I looked around at our small, intimate table of 8.

Ever have one of those moments when you wonder whether everything’s real?

Opposite me was one of the most famous people in the global history of sport. Next to me was a very successful man whose sons are credible and famous in the English-speaking media world. At the other end of the table was the leader of a very warm country’s intelligence service, and next to him a smiling man who never looked up, but whose crisp and polished appearance gave the impression that he was quite high up in something British. It was just the man to my left that I didn’t know anything about. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t have a title on his name card.

As I sat there, I decided this evening was a privilege. Nerves were inappropriate. So I took part as fully as I possibly could. And when the presentation of the theme of the evening and subsequent group discussion had ended, I relaxed in my seat.

And the man to my left turned to me and smiled. We spoke in English and it was quickly clear that this man had a million experiences he could never discuss. He was just so friendly, warm and smiley. It was a glass of red later that we started discussing our lives. And then his truth flowed.

“Jonathan, I belonged to an organisation which had 2 roles. One was our official cover. The other was the important bit. Our organisation was required to constantly travel through another country and pretend we weren’t doing anything wrong. But all the time, we were up to stuff.”

(There are times when listening says more than asking questions. This was one of them.)

“Jonathan, my role had 2 main responsibilities. I had to steal things in other countries for my Government. For example, I frequently had to break in to military bases and remove radar- and weapon parts from the military aircraft I found. Then I had to run. I did this for years and it kept me fit.

But the really interesting – other - part of my job was looking at people’s bits.”

(There are times when listening is better than saying the first thing that goes through your head.)

And he explained. His role during the Cold War had been to help the organisation and Government he worked for prepare for the possibility of future World War. And to do this, he travelled from one place to the next in a specific European country looking for people whose behaviours shouted leadership. Sometimes, he’d notice them in cafés and restaurants. Sometimes, it’d be walking down the street. Sometimes, he’d notice good leaders purely by the way they looked at people. I thought he must be joking. But he meant it. He explained:

“If my country needed to secretly make friends here fast, we’d need to know the people in the community who are natural leaders. Not those who are simply high up due to their age and experience. True Leaders are those whose personalities and inner behaviours influence those around them without even trying. I used to look for those bits in people that make others simply enjoy being human and natural with each other. People who listened properly and treated others with kindness were often worth looking into. They made those around them function better. They were often great leaders. But I had to look carefully. And I had to look for their bits without them even knowing I was there.”

And as the evening continued, this man shared more and more and more about what he’d looked for in future leaders. Listening and learning to all this was a fascinating couple of hours. I don't expect to witness an evening like this ever again.

So, what are our leadership ‘bits’? How good are we at getting the best out of others without even trying?

How well do we listen to other people? When someone’s talking, which part of them do our eyes focus on? How often do we smile in the company of others? Do we like to listen, or do we prefer to be listened to? When we walk into a room, how does the atmosphere of the room change and what happens to the voices of others when we’re near them? Do small children enjoy our company? Do we notice the truth inside people’s intentions? How much energy is there in our facial expressions when we’re with others? How well do we let those around us know that we truly see them? Not the surface, not the image, not the perception, but the beauty of who they truly are?  

Not many of us are spies. But take a moment this week to notice the secret bits of others' characters. They’re beautifully endless. Our impact on the lives of others also has the most stunning potential. So take a moment this week to nourish the life or career of at least one other person. But shhh… keep it a secret.

X Jonathan

 

Failfilment

Success is good. Success feels right. Success can be what we crave. It achieves results and creates smiles, pride and a wealth of stories. But what happens when we don’t succeed… and instead fail? Failures can unlock a determination more beautifully potent than is often understood. Life and leadership are about more than just low-level successes, they're’ also about spotting the potential and energy in any disappointment. So what happens when we fail, what does failure unlock in us… and how much more fulfilled can it make us? Buckle up... we're off to Vienna for the answer.

Success is a potion of many things. It’s a way of using our past to manage our present to influence our future. And success can be a healthy way of living. As a recipe, it works. A dash of ‘reason’, a spoonful of ‘why bother’, a sprinkling of ‘this is what will happen if we don’t succeed’, a flake of ‘needs of others’ and then chuck in a handful of ‘healthy-ego’ to keep things motivated. Stir them all up, and you have the promise of achievement. Our daily lives can contain more success-seeking than we’re often aware. But how did you react the last time you failed something important?

In October 1989, I went for some tests. They were military tests. I wanted to be a fighter pilot in the Royal Air Force and I hoped the RAF would agree to pay me money to improve my education – do my A-levels - until I was old enough to start flying. The tests were reputedly very difficult, and most people failed. I found the tests difficult. And when I got home, I found out I’d failed, but only sort of. They wanted me to be an Officer, but my flying skills weren’t good enough to be a pilot. However, they informed me that If I accepted a scholarship to become the kind of Officer who works on the ground, they’d let me have one final go at the pilot tests a year later. Yes please. I accepted. Signed. Bring it on! Then I received a letter telling me how nobody passes the tests a second time round. Well perhaps sometimes, but only exceptionally rarely. I should prepare for a life on the ground.

And 12 months after failing the tests the first time, I was sat in front of Wing Commander M. I’d just had my final go at the tests. And he looked stern. Wing Commander M was an older man, perhaps about to retire. He looked at the file with my test-results and documents, then closed it. Pushed it aside.

His face was an experienced military face that held a thousand secrets. I’ll never forget it. He stared into me for a moment, then he asked me a strange question. He asked me, 12 months on, what was most important… becoming a fighter pilot or replacing the previous failure with success. I knew what I felt, but the words weren’t there.  I bumbled something then he smiled. Before I left the room, he gave me my pilot-test results. I’d passed. I was going to be a military pilot.

But his words stuck with me. Some things, you hold close as you quietly grow. The unspoken answer to his question had been something to do with my ‘best’. One day, I’d have to help someone else who’d failed. But when would that day come?

Years later, I took a job teaching British English at Vienna’s Federal Teacher Training Academy. It was a fascinating place with truly exceptional professors and teachers. They had a policy of only teaching ‘British’ English.  And the students mostly loved it. All Austrian, they all wanted to teach English to very young children in Austrian Primary schools. They were encouraged to get involved as much as possible. In their early twenties, they were excited. Mostly.

It was only after a while that I noticed in one of the groups the woman at the back on the left. She never did anything wrong, she just seemed a bit different. And she was a little older. Totally committed to what she was doing, just not as vibrant, not as ‘connecty’, not as much ‘fun’ as the others. And the day before her final oral English exam at the end of her final year, my boss spoke to me about her.

She’d been here before. And she’d failed. In a big way. In fact, she was a ‘failure-story’. They wondered whether she should be there at all. She wasn’t going to make it in English. As a result, she wouldn’t make it as a teacher. The way her results had gone over the last 3 years, everything now hinged on the result of her oral exam the following day. Apparently, after her initial 2 years of study, this student had failed English really badly then suddenly taken a year off without warning. She wasn’t one of their success stories. She needed at least a ‘D’ the next day to pass and become a teacher. The only mark she’d ever previously had in English was an ‘E’.

Given the circumstances, and as I was the only Mother-tongue English speaker, they asked me to conduct her final oral exam set for the following day.

When she arrived next day, she was twisted with nerves. As the oral exam began, I did my best to smile and keep things relaxed for her. She was doing her very best posh English (which the academy preferred), but it wasn’t good at all and the language wasn’t coming. She was so nervous she could hardly speak. She wasn’t going to pass and it was all falling apart. She burst into tears and ran out of the room. Something told me to stay there. About 25 minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I let her back in. With a red face and tear-blotched skin, she sat down. She was so sorry. She said she just found the posh English so false and unnatural. So I told her to speak the English that felt most natural to her.

“Really???” She then explained in German that she’d always been terrified that her English would let her down as a teacher, so 2 years ago when she’d failed, she’d decided overnight to take herself out of her comfort zone, give up her Viennese home and spend a year in England to truly learn English. She’d gone to a place called Essex and worked as a Nanny for a year. She found the people of Essex fun, honest, warm, and life-changing. While there, she’d asked herself why she was putting herself through all this. Why? And the English there was a bit different from posh English. Would it be OK to speak that instead of posh English? I asked her to do whatever she enjoyed the most, using whatever flavour of English tasted best. And then it came. She started to talk and it was simply unbelievable.

She looked and sounded every bit Essex English. Her language flowed, her smiles, her shrugs, her eye-rolling, her pleasure of life, her everything. It was unbelievably fluent British-English. Just the Viennese-Essex way. And for 30 minutes it continued. At the end, I thanked her for her time, shook her hand and she left the room. I knew which mark to give her. She’d done amazingly. I told my boss. He was speechless, but he understood. I gave her a B+. This meant she was now a qualified primary school teacher. About a week later, she saw me in Vienna, walked over the road and gave me the biggest hug. She then started crying and we sat down, as she had something to explain.

She’d always kept it quiet, but when she was 7, her mum and dad’s car was hit by another car. Her mother and father were killed immediately, and she was severely injured. Her injuries meant that when she grew up, she wouldn’t be able to have children. Yet she adored children. And becoming a teacher was life itself for her. As we said goodbye, there was a sparkle in her eye. “Jonathan, I failed then ended up in Essex for a reason. I’ve got the English now. But it was more than that. When I was there, I realised that my failure had shone a light on the very best I could one day be. Failing showed my how brilliant my future could become. I simply had to enjoy living my life to unlock it. And I’m going to do things very differently with children. I’ve got an idea. Just wait and see. Goodbye Jonathan”. With a kiss on the cheek, she was gone.

9 years later, I was in Vienna doing research. And one evening, the TV was on. I looked up from my papers and saw it. Austrian TV News was proud of something. A new primary school had opened for children who couldn’t speak properly. This primary-school was a world-first. Young children would learn language while playing funny games and pretending to be someone else. The school was achieving amazing things with these children. And its headmistress was suddenly shown. She was being asked how she’d managed to pioneer something so difficult for children. As she answered, she was holding two of the toddlers. "The route to every person's best is to let them enjoy everything they are." The headmistress was smiling while tears rolled down her face. Her tears were the same ones she’d tried to hide from me 9 years previously.

Success is great. But sometimes, it’s what happens when we don’t get it right first time that unlocks the truest power of who we are and what we’re capable of. Our disappointments brim with the scorching energy of our potential. We just have to ask what the biggest piece of learning is around what we’re experiencing. The greatest success people will ever enjoy comes from the truest power of their own life. Life’s constantly throwing challenges at us. So this week, let’s throw a few challenges back:

Life, you’ve been really good so far, but come on… are you capable of being even better?

:-) Jonathan

Wants and needs

How do 'wants' and 'needs' influence our lives? Human beings lead lives of fascinating invention and beauty, and our lives are a reservoir of the most beautiful moments. Sometimes, we make ourselves a bit too busy to enjoy these moments. But sometimes, moments that come out of the blue have a power that doesn’t stop resonating for the rest of our lives. Throughout each day, many of us are constantly busy deciding what we want to happen next; we identify our ‘wants’ and ‘needs’ from one moment to the next without even realising we’re doing it. Wants and needs are natural enough, but telling them apart can be tricky. So what’s the difference between a want and a need? Last Thursday morning, it took 37 minutes to find out. The answer is heaven. 

Wants and needs are easily confused. And it’s true that ‘want’ and ‘need’ are expressed differently in different languages. There are many philosophies about how ‘needs’ can be unhealthy and how ‘wants’ are selfish. But living life to its full is so much more important than finding the right words to describe life, so let’s do the philosophy another time.

My wife and I found out in February that we were expecting our first baby. When we found out, we were actually still engaged and looking forward to our April wedding. We got married and as the months passed, my wife has become bigger and ever more beautiful. Our little one was due on 21^st October. And we were told “with 80% probability” that our baby would be a girl.

My wife is unique. One of the things I enjoyed about her when we met was that unlike many, she quickly gets passionate about what she can do for others in the world rather than what others in the world should be doing for her. It’s beautiful. And as the years have passed, it’s become even stronger.  She doesn’t ‘want’ or ‘need’ from others very often. But she did dream of being a mother. I knew she’d be an incredible mother. She didn’t ‘want’ or ‘need’ to be a mum. It was something stronger.

21^st October came and went. No baby. Our home was made spotless for the 4^th time. No baby. 25^th October came. No baby. Lots of spicy curries, baths, raspberry tea, long walks etc. Just no baby.  Baby was fine.  Healthy, happy, right position, calm. Just not ready to come out yet. October reached its end. No baby. So last Wednesday, 2 November, I took my wife to our local hospital for our baby to be induced.

The people there were lovely and we expected to stay for a few days before our little one would be ready.  I helped my wife into the bath, got her some tea, and she relaxed. And as the afternoon then evening passed, it all seemed so gentile. My partner didn’t want chemical painkillers, and we just took our time and relaxed. We’d hoped for a homebirth but were ultimately advised against it, so we took our time and just wanted the smoothest, slowest, most trauma-free possible transition to parenthood. The birthing-pool had been requested and we smiled. No chemicals, no pollutants, just a healthy little one.

But…. no baby. Lots of monitoring and ensuring all was OK. Just no baby. The clock ticked, people came and went, blinks came and went.

Suddenly, everything changed. My wife went from almost asleep to screaming in less than 10 seconds.

Everything was suddenly about need and want.

I wanted her pain to leave.

She needed my support.

I wanted her contraction to end so she could breathe ok.

She didn’t know what she needed. The contractions didn’t stop. She needed air.

I wanted to understand what she needed.

She needed to understand why these sudden contractions weren’t ending.

The screams suddenly became constant and the nurses needed to evacuate the whole maternity ward.

The mothers and mothers-to-be wanted to get out quickly.

My wife needed some comfort but didn’t want chemicals.

I needed some answers.

She needed me.

The midwives wanted my wife to lie down. She couldn’t.

They needed her to stand still. She wouldn’t.

They wanted whatever would be easiest for her. She tried. She couldn’t.

She needed the midwives.

They suddenly looked very different. 1 had turned into 3 then 5. And they needed things to happen fast.

My wife needed peace-of-mind and I wanted her to have it.

It was wanting.

We were suddenly in a different room.

My wife wanted to know what was happening.

The midwives wanted to understand too. Their faces were shouting that something was very wrong. They needed others.

Something didn’t make sense for them and they needed a doctor quickly.

My wife needed leadership.

I needed to distract her, make her look me in the eye and breathe deeply.

She needed me. But she wanted me to shut up. As long as I kept talking to her.

The gas and air needed strengthening. I wanted the doctors now stood next to the midwives to stop frowning.

I needed to understand. My wife needed to know our little one was safe.

The doctors wanted me to understand how the situation wasn’t at all how they’d thought.

They needed me and my wife to prepare ourselves.

I needed someone to explain why all the staff suddenly looked so worried.

My wife needed extremely urgent exceptional measures.

They wanted, no, needed my consent.

I wanted my wife and baby to be safe.

I wanted not to understand what the monitors were telling me. But I did understand.

My wife needed reassurance, love, support, my hand and more reassurance.

I wanted my wife and baby to be safe.

The staff needed me to know how unusual and serious things were.

I needed to distract my wife from the terror everywhere.

She needed to look into my eyes.

I needed my wife and baby to be safe.

I needed my wife to have the life of happiness she’s always wanted and truly deserved.

My love for my wife needed me to sit down.

I looked up and there were 13 staff in the room. And it all went quiet.

They suddenly needed me to stand up with my camera.

I didn’t need a second glance.

She needed no more beauty.

Our baby had arrived and my wife was safe.

I wanted to preserve the moment forever. So I did.

I watched as our little one was taken to one side and then helped to breathe.

She didn’t need it. She wanted to be.

She needed to be wrapped up in towels.

She wanted hugs and cuddles from daddy. Daddy needed to give them.

And as I held, cuddled and stared, I sang to her. A song of love from mummy and daddy we’ve sung her every day while pregnant.

After what she’d been through, she needed it.

And then I gave her to mummy.

She needed mummy’s skin. Mummy needed her.

I had everything I wanted. They were both safe. Their needs were met. So were mine.

My wife was beyond beautiful. My daughter was beyond beautiful.

And all of a sudden, this brilliant life had just started all over again. It wanted for nothing.

Ella Rae Cattell was born at 01:01 last Thursday morning. She weighed 8lb 14.5 oz. Lisa and Ella are permanent beauty. They are safe, gorgeous and simply meant to be together.

Taking a moment to choose our wants and needs changes lives. Our wants and needs have a fluid relationship. Sometimes, they love swapping places with each other without warning just to confuse us. It’s also true that on occasion, we humans are tempted to waste time chasing what isn’t really that important. But there are moments. Moments which have an energy and power that never fade.  These moments provide us with a clarity. It’s clear that when we connect with the true, purest needs of others, we want for nothing. Once those who need us are safe, thriving and happy, we couldn’t want for anything else.

Jonathan (aka ‘daddy’).

 

Wants and needs

How do wants and needs influence our lives? Human beings lead lives of fascinating invention and beauty. Our lives are a reservoir of the most beautiful moments. Sometimes, we make ourselves a bit too busy to enjoy these moments. But sometimes, moments that come out of the blue have a power that doesn’t stop resonating for the rest of our lives. Throughout each day, many of us are constantly busy deciding what we want to happen next; we identify our ‘wants’ and ‘needs’ from one moment to the next without even realising we’re doing it. Wants and needs are natural enough, but telling them apart can be tricky. So what’s the difference between a want and a need? Last Thursday morning, it took 37 minutes to find out. The answer is heaven.

Wants and needs are easily confused. And it’s true that ‘want’ and ‘need’ are expressed differently in different languages. There are many philosophies about how ‘needs’ can be unhealthy and how ‘wants’ are selfish. But living life to its full is so much more important than finding the right words to describe life, so let’s do the philosophy another time.

My wife and I found out in February that we were expecting our first baby. When we found out, we were actually still engaged and looking forward to our April wedding. We got married and as the months passed, my wife has become bigger and ever more beautiful. Our little one was due on 21^st October. And we were told “with 80% probability” that our baby would be a girl.

My wife is unique. One of the things I enjoyed about her when we met was that unlike many, she quickly gets passionate about what she can do for others in the world rather than what others in the world should be doing for her. It’s beautiful. And as the years have passed, it’s become even stronger.  She doesn’t ‘want’ or ‘need’ from others very often. But she did dream of being a mother. I knew she’d be an incredible mother. She didn’t ‘want’ or ‘need’ to be a mum. It was something stronger.

21^st October came and went. No baby. Our home was made spotless for the 4^th time. No baby. 25^th October came. No baby. Lots of spicy curries, baths, raspberry tea, long walks etc. Just no baby.  Baby was fine.  Healthy, happy, right position, calm. Just not ready to come out yet. October reached its end. No baby. So last Wednesday, 2 November, I took my wife to our local hospital for our baby to be induced.

The people there were lovely and we expected to stay for a few days before our little one would be ready.  I helped my wife into the bath, got her some tea, and she relaxed. And as the afternoon then evening passed, it all seemed so gentile. My partner didn’t want chemical painkillers, and we just took our time and relaxed. We’d hoped for a homebirth but were ultimately advised against it, so we took our time and just wanted the smoothest, slowest, most trauma-free possible transition to parenthood. The birthing-pool had been requested and we smiled. No chemicals, no pollutants, just a healthy little one.

But…. no baby. Lots of monitoring and ensuring all was OK. Just no baby. The clock ticked, people came and went, blinks came and went.

Suddenly, everything changed. My wife went from almost asleep to screaming in less than 10 seconds.

Everything was suddenly about need and want.

I wanted her pain to leave.

She needed my support.

I wanted her contraction to end so she could breathe ok.

She didn’t know what she needed. The contractions didn’t stop. She needed air.

I wanted to understand what she needed.

She needed to understand why these sudden contractions weren’t ending.

The screams suddenly became constant and the nurses needed to evacuate the whole maternity ward.

The mothers and mothers-to-be wanted to get out quickly.

My wife needed some comfort but didn’t want chemicals.

I needed some answers.

She needed me.

The midwives wanted my wife to lie down. She couldn’t.

They needed her to stand still. She wouldn’t.

They wanted whatever would be easiest for her. She tried. She couldn’t.

She needed the midwives.

They suddenly looked very different. 1 had turned into 3 then 5. And they needed things to happen fast.

My wife needed peace-of-mind and I wanted her to have it.

It was wanting.

We were suddenly in a different room.

My wife wanted to know what was happening.

The midwives wanted to understand too. Their faces were shouting that something was very wrong. They needed others.

Something didn’t make sense for them and they needed a doctor quickly.

My wife needed leadership.

I needed to distract her, make her look me in the eye and breathe deeply.

She needed me. But she wanted me to shut up. As long as I kept talking to her.

The gas and air needed strengthening. I wanted the doctors now stood next to the midwives to stop frowning.

I needed to understand. My wife needed to know our little one was safe.

The doctors wanted me to understand how the situation wasn’t at all how they’d thought.

They needed me and my wife to prepare ourselves.

I needed someone to explain why all the staff suddenly looked so worried.

My wife needed extremely urgent exceptional measures.

They wanted, no, needed my consent.

I wanted my wife and baby to be safe.

I wanted not to understand what the monitors were telling me. But I did understand.

My wife needed reassurance, love, support, my hand and more reassurance.

I wanted my wife and baby to be safe.

The staff needed me to know how unusual and serious things were.

I needed to distract my wife from the terror everywhere.

She needed to look into my eyes.

I needed my wife and baby to be safe.

I needed my wife to have the life of happiness she’s always wanted and truly deserved.

My love for my wife needed me to sit down.

I looked up and there were 13 staff in the room. And it all went quiet.

They suddenly needed me to stand up with my camera.

I didn’t need a second glance.

She needed no more beauty.

Our baby had arrived and my wife was safe.

I wanted to preserve the moment forever. So I did.

I watched as our little one was taken to one side and then helped to breathe.

She didn’t need it. She wanted to be.

She needed to be wrapped up in towels.

She wanted hugs and cuddles from daddy. Daddy needed to give them.

And as I held, cuddled and stared, I sang to her. A song of love from mummy and daddy we’ve sung her every day while pregnant.

After what she’d been through, she needed it.

And then I gave her to mummy.

She needed mummy’s skin. Mummy needed her.

I had everything I wanted. They were both safe. Their needs were met. So were mine.

My wife was beyond beautiful. My daughter was beyond beautiful.

And all of a sudden, this brilliant life had just started all over again. It wanted for nothing.

 

Ella Rae Cattell was born at 01:01 last Thursday morning. She weighed 8lb 14.5 oz. Lisa and Ella are permanent beauty. They are safe, gorgeous and simply meant to be together.

 

Our wants and needs have a fluid relationship. Sometimes, they love swapping places with each other without warning just to confuse us. It’s also true that on occasion, we humans are tempted to waste time chasing what isn’t really that important. But there are moments. Moments which have an energy and power that never fade.  These moments provide us with a clarity. It’s clear that when we connect with the true, purest needs of others, we want for nothing. Once those who need us are safe, thriving and happy, we couldn’t want for anything else.

 

Jonathan (aka ‘daddy’).

She's here

 

Jonathan, Lisa and our blessing from God. X