Look to the Skies

Anyone who knows me knows that when I am outdoors, I look to the sky – at night I look to the stars and to the moon, during the day to cloud formations, and butterflies on a sunny day, aeroplanes with their vapour trail or even the occasional hot air balloon.

 

I love watching the different birds, also – from the cheeky magpie, seagulls at sea, which remind me of Jonathan Livingston Seagull – and my absolute favourites – the graceful and majestic red kites that soar in the skies above Oxfordshire.

 

I don't remember exactly when I first became aware of them; I moved to a business park in the Oxfordshire countryside eight years ago, and noticed these large birds hovering in the air above the park. Their sheer grace drew my eye, and I would find myself observing them during my lunchtime walks, and the sight of one always lifted my spirits.

 

At one time these birds were endangered, and so it was unlikely that you would see more than one or two at the same time. In fact, I think one of the reasons they caught my attention was because it was usually one lone red kite, circling in the sky, catching the air currents, and adjusting their tail feathers ever so slightly to maintain their balance.

 

Over the years they have improved in numbers and they are thriving, so that you may  now find a group of them in the Oxfordshire skies.

 

In spite of this, they tend to fly alongside each other, whilst giving each other plenty of space. And I've come to realise that if I see one kite, there are likely other kites nearby – perhaps on the other side of the park or the neighbouring town.

 

It tells me that whilst I may see a kite that appears to be on its own, there are others of its kind in the world, whether I can see them in that moment or not.

 

This was the wonderful surprise awaiting me on my recent trip to India – my first day in New Delhi I happened to glance up to the skies, and spot a kite! I recognised the same familiar outline in the sky, the same flight pattern, and I was delighted to discover during my week in India, that there are many of them – everywhere I went, I was greeted by them, and in a way reminded of home even whilst discovering a new place.

 

Watching the kites recently I wondered which bird it was that inspired the Wright brothers to invent the aeroplane. I find it fascinating to realise that a bird like the kite may have inspired the invention of the aeroplane, which can fly even higher, and which in turn led to us dreaming of stepping foot on the moon and travelling into space.

 

And yet the kites aren't envious of the aeroplane, they can fly and they can share the skies with the seagulls, magpies and starlings and all the other birds.

 

This is how I've come to feel since being diagnosed and meeting other people with similar challenges – we can know that even if we think we are alone we not lonely and all we need to do to keep hope is to look to the skies.

Lynn

 

 

When we accept our differences, we see our similarities

I really realised the truth of something recently - underneath it all we're the same; we have a heart, stomach, and liver and we all yearn to live a good life and be happy.

Each of us is born and presented with challenges, and obstacles to overcome, to learn, grow and evolve.

Anyone who doesn't see how alike we are, in spite of culture, nationality, race, religion, gender or even sexual orientation, is simply expressing their fear.

What is there to fear? How does someone with a learning difficulty threaten us? Is it simply the fact that they learn differently, so we might have to learn a new way of doing things, to perhaps look at life through someone else's eyes? To adapt our own way of doing things, our comfortable, easy, safe way of doing things?

Where is the harm in opening our hearts, and our minds, in recognising and understanding their challenges, respecting their courage and determination and learning something new?

Just because I visit another country and perhaps even learn the language, does not necessarily mean that I will choose to relocate there, or that I even want to move away from where I live now. I simply want to experience other cultures, environments and perspectives, and to see and understand something new. Some aspects I may choose to adopt, and I may decide that others do not work for me.

I grew up bilingual because my father is German, and this meant I grew up with at least two cultures. I am so grateful I realised at an early age that there are other languages and that I can adapt and choose the *best* of each culture to become the best I can be.

Being diagnosed with Dyspraxia and Attention Deficit Disorder led to a new discovery of my talents and challenges. It has led to meeting new people and new opportunities, including the knowledge-sharing group I started where I work to bring together colleagues far and wide to share best practice, strategies, ideas and resources so we can all save time and improve our working lives.

Looking back 4 years on, this experience more than anything else taught me empathy and to recognise our individuality. I know now that I am a better person for it. I hope that through this I can shine a light for others. 

And I think the more we can recognise, accept and even celebrate our differences, the more we can see how alike we really are.

Lynn

To Fly Like You

In May this year I travelled by myself to Singapore and India, for work. Meeting new people and colleagues showed me new strengths and resources within myself that have come to light since my diagnosis of Dyspraxia/ADD. 

 

This poem is my attempt to share what I experienced on my journey.*

To Fly Like You

At the close of the trip of a lifetime
Two cities visited; two countries
A vision of the Taj Mahal carrying her through

Accompanied by the black kites
A solitary traveller meeting new friends
Taking a moment in a silent spot to express gratitude
Having seen everything she wanted to see

Paused to say thank you, only to become aware
Of a kite catching the wind in its wings
Turned to smile and laugh and say
"I want to fly like you"

Face to face with this majestic bird
Hearing the softest whisper
"It's easy, just open your wings"

A moment of pure joy to step forward to the wall
Opening up her arms, as wide as the world
Turning her face to the sun, feeling the warmth shining down

Lifting her arms to the sky and closing her eyes,
Immersed in the moment
Time standing still, a kite hovering close to the sun
Feeling as though in that moment
She could touch the sky


Lynn Degele (June 2016)

* This post feels a fitting addition to my previous short story post "Finding Another Way"

Maintaining my balance

My holiday in Namibia after Christmas last year taught me something about the benefits of learning through repetition, to maintain my balance. Whilst I was there, my brother and his wife arranged a 10-day tour of the north of the country. Due to the time of the year, we were at risk of contracting malaria, so I took anti-malaria pills, and for about 6 weeks I had to take a pill first thing in the morning about 2 hours before I had anything to eat.

This meant I had to be up at 6, take the pill and then keep myself entertained until breakfast around 8am. Because we did 6 lodges in 10 days, it became a routine to get up, shower, dress and pack so we could leave straight after breakfast. During these 2 hours, I found myself reading in bed, colouring in, or even journalling.

Starting my morning

After about 5 days I realised even if breakfast was not yet being served, I could go and sit on the veranda and observe the wildlife whilst I waited for the others to come to breakfast.

Because the routine was the same every morning regardless of which lodge we were staying at, I soon came to realise that this meant that I got more time out of my morning. I could set up my morning the way I wanted to, and I actually came to enjoy having this time to myself before my cousin, who was sharing the room with me, woke up.

By the time we returned to the coast and I was staying with my parents, it had already become a bit of a habit to wake up, take the medication and spend some time by myself before I officially joined my parents, and let them know I was awake. I took to keeping a bottle of water with me so that I could do this first thing.

I'm really not a morning person so this started out as an inconvenience, but with time I came to enjoy this and to find that it set me up for the day, and I have kept this routine even after returning to the UK.

Returning to “Real-Life”

When the days got shorter last year, I started working between 7-3. I realised that I had always been waiting for it to get light in the winter to start my day, instead of the flip-side which is that if I start at 7, I can finish at 3. This meant that it was still light every day when I left the office, even on the shortest days just before Christmas.

And because it is something I do every day, it has become a touchstone and I have got better at rising early every day. Every day I find a way of improving my morning routine and discovering what I can do before I go to bed the night before to prepare for tomorrow, to start my day right. I am even becoming used to the idea of making my lunch and choosing and laying out my complete outfit the night before, so that I have less to think about and plan when I wake up.

Maintaining my balance

It stands me in good stead when things get a little busy and I find myself under pressure, because I no longer have to think about this. I know how long each step of the process lasts, and I fine-tune it a little more every day. I'm learning to “strive for progress, not perfection" (unknown)

Tweaking my routine just a little every day is manageable. It's easier to identify what I need to improve this time and therefore to identify and recognise my progress. It's easier to remember one small thing to focus on this week (preparing lunch whilst I’m making dinner every night), until I have made that a habit.

And because I am only improving a small thing, I’m focussing on success. I'm focussing on being better and polishing my routine, the way I would if I was rehearsing a dance routine, until the whole process is seamless and flows easily.

I'm learning that whilst life is not a dress rehearsal (Richard Carlson), that I can do the absolute best I can today and be better next time.

Creating islands of calm

And what I love about this is that this morning routine is becoming my touchstone - it's the same every day, no matter what may happen throughout the day. From the moment I get on the bus to the moment I leave the office, there are many things that are not necessarily in my control, but what is in my control is how I start my day.

The same goes for meetings. Each meeting itself may be different, but the process of preparing for it, is the same. It also applies to the training and workshops I run; the set-up is the same, even though the attendees vary from session to session, and I might need to adapt my material whilst presenting to deliver the best service.

And if I can polish my set-up, it becomes a touchstone, to centre myself and regain my centre, no matter how busy my day may be. These touchstones become little islands of calm where I can get back on track and regain my sense of control. Over time, these islands act like a re-set button and I improve just a little every time. In fact I’ve come to see this as an adventure and I look forward to finding a new way to improve each time, and put that into practise the next time.

Book-ending the days

I'm even discovering this applies to my night-time routine, there are some aspects that are the same and can be incorporated in the same way, and that in this way I can book-end my day, with a good start and a good finish, no matter what the day itself held.

I'm still learning some of the challenges that I face as a result of my Dyspraxia and ADD, and in spite of the training and assistive software and technology, I’m coming to understand that to fully appreciate my strengths and areas of development may well take a lifetime.

In the meantime, however, I can control how I choose to start my day, and how I start each day just that little bit better.

Lynn

Dyspraxic Pioneer 

Bite-size and manageable

I'm learning to break things down to bite-size pieces, the way you can cut up an apple, but you wouldn't want to leave it, because it will go brown and be unappetising.

And what about a bunch of grapes? What about an orange?

What kind of task is it?

I really started changing the way I looked at things when I started buying grapes and split them up into little ceramic bowls, and when I then did the same with my pot of yogurt. I found that I could split up the entire amount into 3, and it would be ready for me when I was hungry.

Taking things out of packets, having them in jars, and being able to see so much more easily how much I had left, has helped me to remember what I needed to buy. It made it visual.

I think that's when I really started to realise that big goals are like a large meal. "When eating an elephant" Creighton Abrams tells us, "take one bite at a time". It struck home then that trying to accomplish the whole goal was impossible, and that I had to learn to break it down.

But I had to learn how to break it down first. Mind mapping helped with that, as well as a number of larger projects at work where I started to see that there was a pattern and that sometimes it was easier to line up a number of tasks and then to make a note of what I wanted to do.

It turned it into a process, where I would do one task, repeat it and find that it consolidated my learning better. I was using my memory, I was getting better at doing things, the way you would if you slice up all the different vegetables that go into a meal before starting to cook. You could slice them all whilst you are cutting things up. It’s more efficient that way. 

And I realise it was more efficient to work through the list, note down the bits that needed changing and them come back and fix, correct, amend, investigate.

I saw myself as the engineer, checking the plane, noting down what needs attention, then going way, getting the tools, the right people and coming back to fix that.

It's changed my mindset; realising that's how I learn and that's how I work best.

I've learned to focus my attention in the right way that works for me. And often through repeating the same action whilst I am doing one set of things, I find that I learn and remember better. And the next time I have done a similar project, I have remembered it, whereas before I didn't really learn from one project to another. It's almost as if I had the memory of a goldfish, and no wonder, there was no way to connect the dots and to see the pattern. I was looking too closely. I had to step back and look at the whole picture.

I had to see the puzzle as finished, before I could start on it, and then step away occasionally to see the gaps. 

Abraham Lincoln used to say, "ask me to cut down a tree in 6 hours and I will spend 4 hours sharpening my axe". I see my brain and my mind as the axe, and I am spending the time to measure twice, cut once, and it has improved the way I approach projects.

I feel so much more able to identify the breaks, so I can pause - the way I do when dancing. I can pause, and hit the breaks, to follow the music and find my rhythm.

Lynn
Dyspraxic Pioneer 

What else can go?

This morning I had a clear-out. This turned out to be the second part of a clear-out that began on Wednesday evening this week when I spent a good few hours going through my belongings and picked out things to keep, things to recycle, things to donate and things to toss. After a while, the more stuff I cleared out, the more I wanted to clear out.

"What else can go?" became my mantra.

My hallway is now lined with bags, boxes and other worldly goods. To the casual observer stopping by, it might look as if I was packing to move out, when in actual fact I have discovered I am packing to stay.

I'm clearing out everything I no longer need, and making space for me and for new things and new experiences. By letting go of what I no longer need, I free up space to be myself, to be me, to just be Lynn.

Whilst clearing out the clutter, I came to the realisation that the real reason I had put off doing it for so long was because deep down I had this feeling that if I cleared it, it would only return, so why bother? It's not as if clutter is like dirty dishes, it's not as if it's going to pile up, and start to smell and I won't have any plates to eat my dinner. It might gather dust, and be a visual reminder of all the unnecessary and unfinished things in my life, but I can learn to ignore that and tell myself it doesn't bother me (when really it did)

Then I realised that's the equivalent of saying, "I won't pay off my credit card this month because I'll only end up with a credit card statement again." Not if I choose to be conscious and mindful of what I'm spending, not if I choose to pay cash, or to manage my money differently.

But how can I learn to manage my money differently if I have money that I owe the credit card companies, or other financial commitments? If I'm weighed down by this feeling that none of the money I earn is mine to keep?

What if I reminded myself that this is only temporary? That once I have cleared the clutter, I have a choice what I let into my flat, I have a choice not to fill up those empty spaces, perhaps even to leave them clear and free?

And what if by clearing those spaces, I actually leave space for things I want in the future to fill them? What if it almost creates a natural vacuum, where the right things will inevitably be drawn to that space?

And what if those new things will truly reflect who I am now and who I have become?

Lynn
Dyspraxic Pioneer

Following my intuition

So much has changed in the past year alone, that a little while ago I began to wonder if I was on the right track. 

I hardly recognise the woman I was three years ago, two years ago, or even six months ago. My goals have changed and my interests have evolved. 

Then I realised one evening as I made my way home, that achieving these goals, following my intuition is right. I saw myself as a homing pigeon, making my way Home *.

I think deep down I thought all these new ideas, new ways of working and new ways of seeing the world were taking me away from where I was, but actually then I realised that achieving my goals is moving me forward, that rather than taking me away from home, I am growing.

It reminds me of driving back to my home town of Swakopmund after a holiday away. You'd be driving through the desert, and about 10km outside of Swakopmund you'd hit the fog that spreads inland, and you'd realise you were nearly there. Then you'd see the lighthouse and the buildings and you'd be that little bit closer. 

Not long to go now, nearly Home. 

What if everything we are drawn to doing is actually bringing us closer to Home? Getting over the top of that hill and seeing your destination. It's the equivalent of coming Home. That's where you belong, that's where you fit in and it's that inner voice carrying you home. 

Perhaps we're homing pigeons. Perhaps we don't start out where we're meant to stay. 

Maybe we're placed somewhere and it's up to us to find our way back Home again. And maybe that's why it's starting to make sense. 

Maybe it's where I'm meant to be.

Lynn
Dyspraxic Pioneer 

* "As you live this way, moment by moment, day by day, in perfect time, you will find yourself moving closer and closer to Home. The paradox is that when you stay close to Home, you can go anywhere and do anything without fear." from "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway" (Susan Jeffers, 1987, Ebury Publishing)