Voyages of Discovery

I travelled round Europe by myself in October this year. The 5,000km round-trip by train was an opportunity to stretch myself and to put into practise everything I have learned since being diagnosed with Dyspraxia 5 years ago*, - the skills, habits and routines - and to learn new ones that I could bring back home with me. I even did a rehearsal run 2 weeks before, to nearby Warwick, to test it out.

What my Dyspraxia means to me

I can find myself boarding the bus trying to use my house keys to "pay" instead of using my bus pass

I can have two trains of thought at the same time, and conflate them both

I can lose my balance - co-ordination can be tricky and challenging

I have to work actively to participate and engage in conversations sometimes

These are some of the practical challenges that Dyspraxia brings with it. It wasn't easy, therefore, bringing together a solo trip by train covering 6 major European cities over 12 days, but I have spent the last 5 years since being diagnosed, working on improving my organisational and planning skills. 

Looking back on it, having completed my round-trip, this is how I achieved it: 

- Mapping everything out and then breaking it down - deciding which cities and the dates I was visiting, to get my framework in place. 

- Deciding what was important; what I needed to arrange first, and what could be left open

- I set the outline of my route, and spent hours researching and day-dreaming about my trip. I even took a day off work, and travelled away from Oxford to sit and plan it all out. 

I chose not to book train trips in advance, other than my return trip to mainland Europe, since I needed to be able to get to the continent and back. It was October, not high-season, so I could do that. I did research and confirm train times and connections in advance, which meant I knew I'd be able to get from one place to another. 

This stood me in good stead, because it turned out I had to reschedule my trip twice - the first time when I realised I hadn't allowed sufficient time to prepare everything. I did not feel ready, and wanted to be sure I was giving myself enough time to feel confident when I set out on my journey. 

The second time was after I had already purchased my rail pass, due to dental work. However, the knowledge that I was going travelling saw me through that and going on the trip became a reward as well as a goal to achieve.  

Looking back, it was the ultimate test - challenging my resources and abilities, because I travelled solo and had only myself to take care of and to depend on whilst I was out there. 

In a way that's true of everyday life, too, but being so far away from home - striking out, the furthest I've ever been by myself (1,600km from home when in Warsaw, my furthest point east), meant it felt more real. I could approach each day as a new city to explore, a new country to see, and a new language to learn. I would like to apply that here, to find something new to learn and appreciate in every day. 

The experience was immersive, and I made it my own - harnessing my strengths, understanding and planning for my challenges. I know now that what I discovered about myself whilst I was out there will stand me in good stead for future adventures and challenges. 

Lynn

* Read my original post here

The Peace of Railway Tracks

I wrote this in April this year, nearly six months ago. I have since been on the journey I mentioned, and returned with experiences and insights. I will share those in turn. I am posting the original text, as I wrote it when it was still a dream. 


I recently decided I want to travel more by train. The decision came almost entirely out of nowhere. I was standing on the platform at our local railway station, waiting for the train to London, when one of the newer express trains came rushing through to some far-flung destination, and I experienced an intense longing to be on that particular train, wherever it was going. 

I was drawn by the speed, by the elegance and grace of the train that was able to travel so confidently at that speed, because the tracks had already been laid out, and the driver could trust that the signals would indicate when to slow down or when to proceed “full steam” ahead.

I say this desire came almost entirely out of nowhere – now that I reflect on it, I remember spending several days with my parents in Hamburg last July, travelling by train most days, and being particularly inspired by the ICE trains that carry passengers to Hanover and Cologne at high speeds.

We didn't have the opportunity to travel on one last year, due to circumstances, but I did promise myself I would do it at some point. Until recently trains in the UK have not been as fast as the German trains, but I was delighted to find my train to London that day, was one of the newer, faster trains, and I sat in my window seat, watching the landscape rushing by on the way to our destination.

It may in part be that the new livery and design of the coaches, which feels more spacious, contributed to this feeling, but as I sat there, I became more convinced that the train would be the perfect form of travel for me. Whilst flying is quick, there is a lot to organise and it's not as flexible to change times or destinations, nor do the airports tend to be as centrally located in cities as railway stations. Coaches are fine, but feel less spacious, and I'm less likely to get up and move around. Also very few, if any, have table seating that allows passengers a little more room. In addition, train tracks are level, roads aren't, and are dependent on the vagaries of traffic, speed bumps or hills.

I have had a vague notion that I might like to go on a cruise one day, but I'm still not convinced I wouldn't experience seasickness, and I'm not sure I would like the idea of being quite so locked into the direction of travel, and the ship, whilst travelling. Also, cruises tend only to dock for day-trips, and I remember thinking I really liked the idea of travelling on one day to the next city, and spending one or two days there, to explore, then move on.

I'm currently planning this journey over the summer, with three legs of my trip, and I'm incredibly excited at doing this for myself. Originally this year I had intended to fly out to Hawaii to celebrate my birthday, but this actually feels right to me – it's a way of celebrating my independence, of organising my own itinerary, building on the visit I did to Singapore and India in 2016, and a way of going on another important journey with myself.

I discovered another insight whilst I was standing on the train platform recently – whilst the trains were passing through the station departing and arriving from their various destinations, I remember looking up at the sky, and in that moment, seeing a red kite soaring past overhead, against the backdrop of the clouds. Ever since I learnt about these majestic birds, I have been drawn to their effortless grace, and as this one flew past in a direct line without pause, I realised that for me, getting on a train is one of the ways I'm fully able to press pause, to stop and be in the moment. I have come to recognise that the necessity of having myself organised, and the act of having to stand and wait on the platform for the right train, is a clear signal to me, body mind and soul, that I am stepping away from my life for a little while. 

Once on the train, I have to cede control to the driver and the railway company, and then I can relax. The physical change of space and pace really helps me disconnect and change my perspective, so I have promised myself I will create more opportunities to explore my surroundings by train this year.

I can't wait to see what I discover.

Ready to Run

Putting on my running shoes

I've discovered something - some mornings it feels like I'm getting ready for a race. And I need to have my running shoes on, laced up and ready before I get to the starting line.

Some people may be able to eat breakfast on their way to work, or do make-up, or plan their day when they get into the office.

I need to be ready the night before. I need to be ready to run every day, because if I'm not, it feels as if the starter pistol has been fired, and I'm still lacing up my running shoes.

It reminds me of being at school and doing athletics, which was not my favourite activity. At the time I wasn't aware that I was Dyspraxic, and that co-ordination was not my strong point. Perhaps if I had been aware, it might have made it easier to understand why it was so challenging, and I might have been able to stop comparing myself to others, to accept myself.

I might have been able to find an activity I was better suited to, or even been able to help off the track.

I'm learning what it means for me to be ready to run every day.

Being ready to run means I'm ready to start my day in whatever way is necessary; work on a project, train a client or know what needs doing, in case I’m delayed by traffic.

It means if I am delayed in traffic, I can walk into the office, and begin the moment I arrive.

I have to remind myself I am "on stage" the moment I get in - sometimes even before I switch on my laptop, and log in for the day.

It means deciding the night before what I will wear the next day, possibly even 2 or 3 days in advance.

It means knowing everything I need to do or have with me, so I'm "ready to launch" when I leave the house.

                                               

I used to find this frustrating; now I know it's what I need to feel like I am put-together, and ready to face the day. It literally gives me a starting point, so that when the starter pistol goes, I am just as ready to run as everyone else.

And if I'm ready to run when the race starts, I have a better chance of finishing along with everyone else.

Lynn

The Fear of Staying the Same

Recently I have begun to actually feel that I am changing, that I have changed.

I suppose others have started to see it, but I have not been ready to believe it. I can see glimpses of the woman I am becoming, and occasionally I look back and can see how far I have come.

Even though it sometimes feels as if time has passed, and I haven't necessarily got proof outwardly I have changed – a new relationship, a child, a house, or even a car – when I meet people from my past or reflect on people I used to spend time with, I can see it.

I have grown. Most of all, I can feel it, like a second skin that I am ready to embrace, because the old one has become old, dried out and restrictive.

I suppose a snake isn't the most flattering image to describe this, but I don't feel that a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis is the right one either. It doesn't feel strong enough, or substantial enough to reflect how I feel about the me that is emerging.

And perhaps I don't want to think about the chrysalis, or of my former self as a caterpillar.

Perhaps this new me was there all along, partially visible to me and people who could see me – see my potential, and now that I've had the time to really get to know myself, inside out, and to understand the challenges unique to me with my Dyspraxia and ADD, I can recognise that old habits and behaviours no longer serve me. And now that I can see that old skin, that old me, I can become willing to let it go, and leave it behind, in whatever way that is.

And I need to trust that the new skin will be more reflective of the woman I am becoming, and visible to everyone, not just a select few.

I need to give that new skin, and me, time to adjust and feel right.

Why Representation Matters

When I was younger and I was growing up, I didn't particularly think there was much difference between men and women. I didn't think much about who was making decisions for me at school or in my home life. I'm the first-born and have a younger brother. I assumed I would be the first to marry and have children, not necessarily because that was what I wanted, but because it was what was expected of me. Whether consciously or unconsciously, I was given to believe there were things I didn't need to learn or understand in any depth, because one day I would get married and my husband would take care of me, of those matters.

Maybe it was my background, and maybe this wasn't the same for my friends, or even my brother. I can't really say.

What I do know, is that for one reason or another, I haven't married or had children of my own until now. I may never do so.

And, ironically, it was being diagnosed with a Learning Difficulty that showed me why representation matters, and why women need to be equally involved in decision making, that impacts them in any way, no matter how minor or indirect.

I thought it was harmless for men to make these decisions, until I became part of a group of 10% of the population, and realised how important it is to be seen, to be heard, to have a voice. To be asked for your input and your opinion, and not be taken for granted that your needs are the same as everyone else.

Imagine booking onto a flight, not being asked about your dietary requirements, and boarding the flight to discover there is only one option available. Now imagine that option is not suitable for your needs, either due to a medical reason, or a religious reason, or even just the fact that you would like a second option.

In the last instance, you could choose to go hungry, but now imagine that you have a serious allergy and physically you are not able to eat the meal. At least if you'd been presented with options up-front, you could request a special meal, or make other arrangements.

I am not aware of any airlines that do not provide an option or state their availability up-front. Whether they do or not, though, we have the right to ask and make requests, and to decide whether to take the flight or make alternative arrangements.

Allowing men to make decisions on behalf of women is not harmless. Allowing people without a Learning Difficulty to make decisions on behalf of those who do, without asking them, is not harmless.

Perhaps a better analogy would be to offer to build a house for someone, without asking beforehand how the house needs to be built. The house may be wonderful and well-built, and generous, but if, say, this person requires a basement with a swimming pool, it's much harder, if not impossible, to add it in afterwards. Much harder to get planning permission after the fact, and more of an upheaval to make the change, and more disruptive. In the meantime, our imaginary person may not even be able to move in, even though the house appeared to be ready.

Much better to ask beforehand if the person needs any specific features to be built into the house, or even to ask if they need a basement with a swimming pool.

Then the architect and builders can request planning permission before starting to build. And even if it is not possible to build a basement with a swimming pool in this instance, let them know you are aware and have looked into the possibility, and discuss alternative options.

This is what I mean by representation – having someone in the room to speak from lived experience. Having been diagnosed with a Learning Difficulty as an adult, and lived with the challenges and characteristics of this for the past five years, I can tell you I do not speak for all people with a Learning Difficulty. However, I now have an idea of what it means not to have a say in some aspects of my life, just as I have come to realise that this is the same as decisions being made by men on behalf of women. They have not walked in those women's shoes, or seen the world through their eyes, and the greatest amount of empathy and sincerity simply cannot replace that fact.

Being diagnosed has taught me to have empathy and understanding for others. My Dyspraxia and ADD are not immediately visible to everyone, the way, for example, someone with a broken arm or eye-patch would be. But unlike a broken arm, my Dyspraxia will not magically be healed one day. It is a part of me, the same as the colour of my eyes, or my height.

I hope that this newfound empathy and curiosity of mine extends to other groups of people in the world, even if I am not a part of those groups, or cultures. I have learned that diversity opens up our horizons, and can make ideas stronger and more enduring. However, we need to give these groups at least a voice, a seat at the table, and when we ask them about their experiences, be willing to step into their world for just a little while.

And who knows, perhaps our ideas and solutions to the world’s challenges, will be the richer for it.

Lynn

Reach for the sky

A year ago, I returned from my visit to Singapore and India, having taken my knowledge-sharing group global, and it's led me to reflect on the impact the trip has had on me over the past year.

Spring has arrived and I'm noticing the new growth, the blossom and new leaves on the trees, and I'm finding my eyes drawn to the top of the trees, up to the sky.

Observing the trees, and how the tallest trees reach up to the sky, it reminds me of this time last year when I was in India, and somehow it felt as if I was on the roof of the world. A few years ago, I wrote a short story about climbing to the top of the mountain, and looking back a year later, I really do feel as if my trip to Singapore, and especially India, was reaching the top of the mountain for a moment; standing on the top and seeing the sky, and the world around me.

It took some time to return to earth afterwards; in fact, I felt it took my soul a month to catch up with my body after I had returned, and a few months later, a colleague likened my trip to a visit to the moon. Neil Armstrong*, the first man to walk on the moon, is reputed to have had said that after you have been to the moon, you need to find a new goal, because you may not necessarily go back, and you need to find life in the everyday, because what do you do after you've walked on the moon?

Surprisingly, the one thing I have never really found myself wanting to be, is an astronaut, so I am not referring to this literally, but in hindsight, when I remember how much effort, hard work and preparation I put into organising the trip, and myself, it almost may as well have been.

Somehow, India, especially, felt as if I was standing on the roof of the world, and I felt as if I could actually touch the sky, particularly on the day I visited the Taj Mahal in Agra. The day I found myself face-to-face with the kites, and for a moment I knew that everything was right with the world, and I knew what I was here to do. I felt so inspired, and so grateful. I imagine this must be how astronauts feel when they look down at the Earth from their viewpoint in space. It's a moment out of time, and you have to savour that image because it is unique to you, and once you return to ground, it will be a memory in your mind.

One of the reasons I am so grateful I had the opportunity to go, and that I travelled by myself, is that I discovered that I could be on my own, and find my way. I made the trip my own, and whenever I happen to look to the skies and see an aeroplane over the skies over Oxfordshire, I see the vapour trails, and I can see that although lift-off may take a burst of energy, once the journey is mapped out, watching from the ground, we see the aeroplane travel across the sky, leaving behind the vapour trails that merge into the clouds, and the design of the sky, and even though we cannot see where the aeroplane is going, all it has to do is keep moving forward until it reaches its destination, and it can land.

Henry Ford said “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right”. I would add to that, the only way to truly know whether you can, is to test yourself, and get out there and do it.

Lynn

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Armstrong

Begin in the middle

I've spent many years learning and working on time management, and I have read many books on the topic.

"Just begin". "Begin with the end in mind".* Both of these are admirable recommendations, and neither of them really work for me all the time. I cannot begin if I don't know where to begin. It's not always like a race, where everyone lines up at the starting point together, and a shot is fired to tell us when we can begin.

Many times, a task or a goal for me is so many building blocks or puzzle pieces that I need to gather together, before I can decide which part to work on first.

And beginning with the end in mind only works if you know exactly where you are going - if I want to be in Rome by 5pm on Friday afternoon, I know I need to work it backwards to identify what to pack and which method of transportation I will use to reach my destination, so I am able to work out what time I need to leave home to arrive on time. 

Begin with the end in mind is great if you know exactly what you want. And if you are building your dream house, then you probably do want to keep that image in mind, to be sure that when it is built, it is how you wanted it to be. And with any goal, to really achieve it, in some tiny corner of your mind, you do need to believe it is possible; you need to be able to see yourself having achieved it, to be living the results.

Be willing to adapt

Some goals, though, are a little different - we need to see ourselves achieving them, but to be willing to adapt if needed, or to realise that what we imagined is not exactly how it will play out. I remember visualising my trip to Singapore and India last year. For me it was seeing myself in my mind's eye, boarding the plane at Heathrow, and imagining the flight, and then landing in Singapore.

However, no matter how much research I did about Singapore and India, no matter how many colleagues in Singapore and India I spoke to in order to prepare the workshops, and how much I planned the trip, in the end none of that matched exactly my imaginings and my visual image.

What it did do, was to carry me through the time when I was planning and working, and to give me the inner motivation to keep going. And where the original goal was to go to Singapore and India and present the workshops, the more I spoke about my trip to colleagues and friends and relatives, the more real it became, and the more I began to realise it was not just about going, it was about what a successful outcome of the trip would be, and how I could ensure that it was successful.

Crossing the finishing line 

When I was working on my coaching diploma two years ago, there came a point where I was nearly finished, and yet I just had 3000 words left to write to submit my coursework for assessment. By this point I had completed all my practise coaching sessions, I had attended all the on-site training days and I had been assessed on my practical skills. I had completed what felt like about 90% of the course. However, I found myself hesitating to complete the final 3000 words, to submit that final piece, because it was that last bit of work, and handing that in would be the final test. Had I done enough to pass? Had I done enough to pass with a mark that I would find satisfactory? What would happen if I passed?

Then I read a description in "The Now Habit"** about the final stretch of a marathon. It wasn't until I read this description and imagined my course as a race that I was able to put it together and realise that not handing in that final 3000 words, was the equivalent of simply sitting down 100m before the finishing line, of stopping, and not finishing the race.  I could see the finishing line, and my friends cheering me on, but if I didn't cross the finishing line, I could not finish the race. It was then I realised that my friends would congratulate me on finishing no matter how long it took me, and that it really didn't matter how long it took others to finish that race, whether they finished ahead of me, or after me. It was my race, and only I was in charge of myself and my attitude.

Celebrate finishing

I got over this idea by deciding to celebrate when I had handed in my coursework, when I had crossed the finishing line, rather than waiting to find out my results and celebrate my outcome. Whilst I wanted a good outcome, and I'd want a personal best for the race, the most important thing is crossing that finishing line. Because that is the part that I have control over: my efforts and my input.

You may say that it is obvious when to begin if you are running a race, but I would argue that is not necessarily the case. For one person it may be buying their race outfit, for another it may be registering for the race, for another it may be finding a cause to run for, or a friend who will sign up with them. For another it may be signing up to a gym to build up their stamina.

So I say, if you're not totally sure where to start, that's okay. Take the first step.

Begin in the middle.

Lynn

* "Begin with the end in mind" from The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey, 1989, (Simon & Schuster)

* The Now Habit, Neil Fiore, 1988, (TarcherPerigree)