About Duckie

Author, Coach, Celebrant, Life Transition Adviser.

Scientific Justification for a Wandering Mind

I’ve always thought that I had a major problem with concentration – or lack of it.  It started in school which I would zone out during history or science, and lose myself in daydreams about endless what-if options, or whichever fantasy was top of my list that day.

Woe betide me of course if the teacher noted my blank expression and asked me a question.  How to be shown up and humiliated before a class full of peers.  I soon had a reputation and it wasn’t for my brilliance.

Then of course there are those team meetings at work.  Over an hour or so, the team discusses goal definition, project progress, moments of brilliance and safety issues.  It’s scintillating stuff. Where is my mind?  Not on the meeting, that’s for sure.

I’m doing a Walter Mitty with my head in the clouds, or dreaming of the next lotto win that will take me away from all this – or would if only I had bought a ticket.  I then have to ad-lib quickly when I’m called upon to contribute to the discussion.  It’s not easy to sound as if you know what you are talking about when you don’t, and I suspect that not many are fooled.

According to Malia Mason of the Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, daydreaming is a form of mental multi-tasking, when the brain solves problems, contemplates and future and engages in cerebral brain-storming. It seems that the brain is engaged in a lot of hard and potentially productive work.

Dream-PictureSo, to those who have previously thought that I was half asleep, not engaged, or simply away with the fairies, I was in fact not just involved in serious contemplation; I had embarked on a meditative journey of complex resolution.

In Praise of the Entrepreneur

A few days ago, I read an article online about several bright young millennials who were feted for their entrepreneurial spirit, and rightly so for they had done well. I picked up the assumption on the part of the author that she thought that Gen Ys or the Millennials as they are also known, are a go-getter breed of entrepreneur, the likes of which have not been seen before.

Lemonade Stand

There were several reasons flagged for this by those who were interviewed within the article:

  • Millennials are not afraid to question authority;
  • They are flexible and entrepreneurial;
  • They harness new technology in the interest of getting things done easily and efficiently; and
  • They are hungry for success and have the confidence to go out on their own.

It was even said that ‘this special generation benefits from knowing how things were done before mobiles, the cloud and Google.’  (I snorted so hard my tea nearly came out my nose when I read that claim. Most millennials have never known a life without a mobile phone, or Google.) It was also noted on the negative side that Gen Ys can be impatient and too focussed on technology over face-to-face interaction.

It made me review my own businesses start-ups, the first of which was when I was 18.  It was an abysmal failure as I had no idea about marketing, location, pricing, or any of those essential details.  I had learnt a bit by the time that little enterprise folded.  My next businesses were in my twenties and they were more successful.  One, I now realise in hindsight would have probably set me up for life if I had developed it further and hadn’t sold out too soon.  I lacked formal business and financial training however and learnt on the job, often by making mistakes.  I so wish that I’d had a good mentor during those times but I was a female trespassing in traditional male spheres and the welcome mat wasn’t exactly thrown out.

The point is however, that although I am now a baby boomer, in my earlier years when I didn’t have mortgages, and a child to support and educate, I was able to act on my bright ideas.  I never saw them as taking risks, but more rising to the challenge and having a go.  I suspect that this has always been the case, and the Millennials of today are merely following in the footsteps of generations who have gone before.  With the benefit of internet-based technologies though, they are able to harness information and learnings that were not so easily accessible before.  They can contact other people online who are engaged in similar activities and set up mutually supportive networks.  They can even use crowd-funding to finance new ventures.

I have never stopped having the ideas, and have a file full of incipient business plans for the next great scheme that might just be challenging, and a bit of a winner.  An online bookshop did well for a decade, before more cashed up competition prompted its slow demise.   I also didn’t know what I didn’t know about internet marketing. Once more, I’ve learnt a lot.

Now that said child is off my hands and I have a little more financial flexibility, I can again consider the options for casting aside the corporate 9-5 and pursue some of my dreams again. I suspect that I’m not alone and that there are a few more budding seniorpreneurs working on their business start-ups.

What about it all you Gen Xs and Baby Boomers?  Has that entrepreneurial spirit spluttered and died, or are you biding your time for when you can give it a go again?  Are business start-ups the province of the young?

What do you want to be?

What do you want to be when you grow up?  How many times were you asked that as a child?  If you were anything like me, you really had no idea of what the options were, let alone what you wanted to do, beyond be successful and happy in your choice.  I had no idea when I would be ‘grown up’ and with the passage of time, that milestone seemed to keep moving into the distance ahead of me, much the same as a mirage.

Journey

I was also flummoxed by too many ideas.  I toyed with being an actor, a journalist, a psychologist, working in advertising, and perhaps being a social worker.  I definitely knew that I didn’t want to be a teacher, or a nurse (conventional female choices at that time) and although interested in sciences, this was not a field in which I excelled academically.  Actually, my academic achievements were not terribly high in any area by the time that I finished high school and I had totally lost confidence in myself and my abilities, as had done my parents.

There are a range of career advisers available today that didn’t exist at that time.  However, the Commonwealth Employment Service (CES for those who remember) did have an adviser for school leavers and my mother sent me off to undertake their testing and interview process.  From memory, I don’t think that I was handed a career in a box, or given any real practical suggestions.  What stunned me though was the interviewer saying that “I don’t know why you are thinking of social work.  Your results indicate that you don’t like people.”

I was both astonished and demoralised by this assertion and although I thought that she must be wrong, was pushed off balance.  What followed was a period of drifting in and out of courses that I took because I didn’t know what else to do, dropping out, travelling a bit, odd jobs here and there and finally falling into the property industry.  Along the way, I have acquired a few degrees and qualifications, worked in real estate sales, had my own agency, sold and built houses, have been a research analyst and a property adviser for various corporations and government departments.  It just sort of happened.  There have also been some business start-ups in that time, and a lot of lessons learnt.

All along though, I said to myself, I wonder what I will be when I grow up?  I’m a few decades along from when I first posed this question, and I’m still not totally sure when the grown up thing happens, but I have learnt a few things along the way.  Besides acquiring a range of business skills and experiences, (how I wish I’d had those business smarts when younger) I also know that being older doesn’t mean that decisions are any easier.  I also know that circumstances change at any age, whether by choice or factors outside of your control, and know that decisions on what to do next can still be over-whelming.

Friends and family all have different opinions and usually none of their suggestions really light your fire.  It can be easier not to consult them and just to agonise on the options on your own.  At least then you only have your own conflicted voice to listen to and not half a dozen others.

Some of my own experiences in this area Decisionshave led me to pursue training in coaching, focussing on those key transitional times in our lives. It complements work that I have exploring with Life Choices – how to make the decisions that are right for us. I wish that I’d had help like this earlier in life. Stay tuned for further detail that I would love to share with you on my journey of decision-making discovery.

A key area of interest is helping people to make decisions at transitional times in their lives.  It might be having to change career direction or having to re-invent yourself or it may be at other major transitional changes.  The biggies are birth, marriage, children, , divorce, death but there are other variations that are just as important when we are grappling with our decisions.

I’m also really interested in learning how others manage their decision making processes.  If you have time, leave a response and share it with us all.

 

Looking to the future

Do you know those feelings before starting a new journey into the unknown?  There is a mixture of excitement and fear.  The excitement focusses on anticipation of the wonderful things you will see, the people you will meet and the experiences that you will have.  The fear focuses on whether you are competent enough, and how will you manage and what if you fall over?

I’m embarking on a new business venture and so am experiencing all of those thoughts and feelings.  The new venture is prompted by several things.  For a start, I am one of those people who is always coming up with new ideas.  When I was younger I just launched into them with the zest and enthusiasm of someone who was really green and didn’t know it.  I had some failures but some successes too and it taught me a lot.  I really wish that I’d had some mentors during those years of exploration and enthusiasm, but that’s another topic.

Secondly, I can see that there is no security of tenure with my current employer and redundancy is likely to come my way by the end of the financial year.  This coincides with my increasing dissatisfaction at a role that is increasingly dumbed down and diminished in content and engagement.  It is  not surprising therefore that my frustration at working in a non-supportive environment has lead to my thoughts of self-employment again.  I also recognise that this is a poor employment market for people past a certain age and if I don’t want to find myself in the clutches of Centrelink, I will need to be resourceful and to develop alternatives that are financially viable.

The third reason is that I can see a new challenge in the future and it excites me.  That doesn’t mean that I am not apprehensive about what I am proposing but the prospect of taking back control over my working life is a greater incentive than the fear is a detraction.  Right now I am in the research phase and working on my business plan and just doing this preliminary work fuels the anticipation.

Although I am not in a position to disclose full details right now, I am keen to develop relationships with other service providers, and specifically those who are not totally embedded in the youth culture.  I would not expect for instance that the copy on my webpage would contain words such as ‘totally awesome’ as my target audience will mostly come from Gen X and Baby Boomer age groups.  I will look for a copy writer who can engage with and not alienate that age group.  Likewise a brand manager, graphic designer and photographer.

Finding a mentor of course would be fantastic but jut as useful will be developing a network of people who are at a similar stage in life and perhaps starting new ventures of their own.  If that sounds like you, give me a shout.Anticipation

 

 

 

Unsubscribing my LIfe

This is it.  I am reclaiming my life.  By default, I am subscribed to so many lists.  There are supermarkets, wine companies, coupon companies, dress shops, and other retailers.  Some I may have subscribed to and my contact details have probably been purchased by other entities..

Then there are the self-help motivators, business advisers, health and wellness gurus, lifestyle advisers – whatever.  They are the most dangerous.  I tend to scan them just in case there is a pearl of wisdom hidden within the scrolled page, something that is going to make a miraculous difference to my life and that of course takes time.

You know what?  There rarely is.  What these emails are delivering under the guise of valuable content is mostly common sense, general knowledge and sometimes totally whacky.  There’s a lot of woo-woo content that slides through the in-box as well.  It has got to the point where this content is clogging up my screen to the extent where processing, scanning and deleting them is seriously compromising my time to do important things for myself – like write my next novel or work on my new business plan.

Increasingly, business communications are being delivered via email, but I sometimes overlook important information because it is buried in the general detritus. If I don’t pay an invoice on time, that is a problem.  If I miss an appointment, that is also a problem.  I know that applying rules to the in-box can divert identified emails to specific folders but to do that you have to know in advance that it is coming.

Progressively, I am hitting the un-subscribe button.  Restaurant offers – gone; camping gear – gone; travel deals – gone; happiness skills – gone; media skills – gone; the next great business seminar – gone.  It’s too soon to see the effect but I am so looking forward to an in-box that is relevant and dealt with quickly so that I can get on with my life.

I’m reclaiming.  What about you?

Sold the Family Home

It ended up being a brief process that was easier than I expected.  I handled the sale on behalf of the family and we elected not to bother with an agent but to make it a sale by vendor.

Front-2

This is the house that Dad built

My first preference was to auction the property, as the land size was highly desirable and the house itself was unusual.  There were not many comparable sales around so establishing a value was not easy.  Auctioneers who I approached to act on our behalf declined to do so, saying that they had to work for licensed agents for insurance reasons.  That being the case, I decided to call for expressions of interest instead, with offers over $550k to be received in writing on the designated form by a specified date.  We had already received a valuation at that price shortly after our father’s death and so that was our base price, allowing for some capital growth since that time.

Before commencing the advertising program, I engaged a conveyancer to prepare the forms that needed to be provided to a purchaser, and a blank contract as well so that I could seal the deal as soon as agreement was reached.  I designed a sign board and commissioned that, organised paper advertising (Mainstream and the local Chinese Property News) and advertised on line as well.  That just left the open inspections.

The interest invoked by the property was good and within a day we had an offer of $600k.  There was a little negotiating with different parties but 8 days after our initial open inspection, on behalf of the family I shortened the sale period and accepted an offer of $612k.  I felt that it was a very good offer and that the purchasers were so intent on buying something – if not our property then something else – that I should take it and not risk losing them.

It sounds easy but there was sadness too.  I grew up in that house.  Here were people pacing around the back yard and working out how many smaller homes they could fit on the block (they could fit three) and asking if there were any problems in chopping down the trees.  In the middle of the yard is a huge olive tree.  It has kept the family supplied with olive oil for years.  It was our playground as kids as we climbed its branches and acted out various games.  That was the first tree that everyone wanted to remove.

I made a conscious effort to dissociate myself from the emotional ties and to treat it all as an arm’s length transaction.  We still told our stories though at the open inspections – about how our father designed and built the house; why he came up with such an innovative and unusual design, the environmental features and what we remembered growing up in what was once an outer suburb.  People enjoyed the stories and appreciated being able to ask us detailed questions that perhaps an agent would not have been able to answer.

There is still another month until settlement day.  I’ll be relieved with it is all over, but there will still be a little part of me that is left in that house and up the olive tree, the ghost of childhood past.  It’s the end of an era.

Digging up Mother

My parent’s house will shortly be put on the market.  Father died in February 2013 and clearing out the house has taken much longer than I would have anticipated.  We are almost there (my sisters and I) with some garden rubbish to be disposed of and a few shed items as well.

We will probably manage the sale ourselves and if we can find a willing auctioneer, will sell it via auction.  What this means then is it is time to dig up Mother.  That was the decision I came to this Saturday as I surveyed the house and considered what needed doing next.  I knew that she was under a rose bush and was confident I knew which rose bush.  My sister disagreed however and was sure that it was the adjacent bush.  Perhaps it was.

We have had what seems like weeks of rain and as a result, the clay-based soil in the front garden is damp and heavy.  Cutting through it was hard work.  I circled the rose bush that I favoured, levering out forkfuls of soil as I went.  I repeated the process and then resorted to the shovel to dig out the loosened soil.  Thus I dug a circular trench around the rose, exposing the roots and freeing them from the clay.  Eventually I pulled the bush out, severing some roots in the process but leaving a large bowl-shaped excavation that I continued to work on.

After a while, the soil changed consistency and I reached a layer of greasy clay that looked as though it would have been brilliant for making clay bricks.  It was also incredibly resistant to either fork or spade.  I now had a large and quite deep hole but had not found Mother.  I conceded that perhaps my sister was right and turned my attention to the second bush.  It was only about 12 degrees but even so by this stage, I felt the need to remove my jacket.

I started on the second bush, a bit peeved I had been chatting to the wrong shrub.  There had been those occasions when visiting dad that I had felt the need for a discussion with Mother and had slipped out into the front garden to commune with that rose, filling her in on the events of the day or just having a general chat.  The knowledge that I had misdirected my attention made me feel a bit silly.  I repeated the excavation process I had followed with the first bush and soon had that plant released from the ground as well.  I dug deeper and wider until the second hole was about the same depth as was the first.  I still didn’t find Mother.

I turned my attention to a third bush and divested myself of my jumper, leaving just a thin T-shirt on.  I was puzzled by this stage as my memory of the day on which we buried her did not support the location of the third bush at all but she had to be somewhere and I was starting to doubt the integrity of my recollections.  I repeated the process followed with the first two holes and dug the third hole and removed the bush.  Mother wasn’t there either and by this stage daylight was fading and I was exhausted.  I walked out of the garden 10 centimetres taller from all the claggy clay stuck to the bottom of my shoes, a bit cranky and perplexed by it all.

Today being Sunday, I was back at the house again, tackling some of the fun pre-sale jobs such as cleaning the oven.  My brother-in-law joined us early afternoon and somewhat in mirth when I advised that I could not find Mother, undertook to dig up further roses while at that time I supervised and cut back some rampant vegetation.  He dug up a fourth rose leaving a small neat hole that did not disclose mother.

I thought he needed a broader hole but no matter, he launched himself at another rosebush and dug that one up too.  This was now rose number five.  By this stage, he was feeling the heat and his jacket came off.  I noted a fair amount of huffing and puffing as he struggled with the sticky clay.  With that hole finally excavated, there was still another option (the sixth) and he tackled that rose bush as well.  Somewhat slowly by now and with frequent rests in between.

There was some talk of perhaps leaving her in situ and that maybe we would never find her.  I heard what they were saying but really did not want to leave my mother behind.  When the sixth hole did not yield a result except for yet another bare-rooted rose looking somewhat shocked, I suggested a cup of tea and a bit of a break.  We all needed it by then.

Suitably refreshed, we emerged to widen the last three holes, giving a greater area to investigate. My nephew had also arrived and he manned the digging implements for a while as well.  I watched them using a stabbing motion with a narrow-bladed implement as they chipped at the bottom of their holes – holes that I still didn’t really believe would yield success.

It made me think again about the first hole that I had dug and I asked my B-I-L to use that digger to chip away at the bottom of the first hole.  Chip, chip, chunk, chunk.  He chipped away and then I scrapped out the loose clay with the shovel.  Suddenly there was a flash of colour.  I directed him to it and then I could see that we had found her.  Just 5 cms below the first hole that I dug, she was waiting all along.  It was a relief to know that I had been speaking to the right bush after all.

Mother has now been extracted from the garden, the clay washed off the cream plastic brick, and she is now sitting alongside father in one of the bedrooms.  I am not sure if that is what they would have wanted but for now it will do.  The next resting place is a decision for another day.

It looked like wombats had attacked the front garden.

It looked like wombats had attacked the front garden.

At last, we found Mother.

At last, we found Mother