Is choice good?

I watched The Wright Stuff this morning and they were discussing whether having too much choice is good for you. I was surprised to find out that phycologists shared my view- basically it's not!

I'm not one for reverting to a communist state, but on more than one occassion the entire contents of my wardrobe has been unceremoniously tossed on the bed in exasperation. On such stressful mornings I can't help but think we all need a uniform then they'd be one less thing to worry about!

I distinctly remember my time as a 6th former sat in the library leafing through huge tomes filled with every possible university course in the country. I was left wondering whether landscape gardener or dentist was more my cup of tea.... oh and then I'd spot small animal care and my whole decision making process would be thrown into disarray.

The thing is we have too much choice, and we mistake it as freedom. It's what distinctly seperates the first world from the third. The opportunity to buy more stuff then we could ever want or need, and the possibility of taking one's life in an infinite number of directions seems to be a necessity in our modern society and we have embraced it with vigour. The thing is does it make us happy?

As I sat in the library I remember worrying myself silly. What if I made the wrong choice? This could be the defining moment in the crossroads of my life. I plugged for theatre, but would small animal care have made me happier? You definitely get to squeeze lots of guinea pigs and what could be better than that?!

Think of a box of chocolates, not the Forest Gump one; but an actual one. When it's full the choice is overwhelming. We change our minds a hundred times before plugging for the hazelnut one. What if there were only three chocolates.... hold on this is a ridiculously bad analogy...  who am I kidding? I'd eat the whole box and the three after that too. What I'm saying is ... take the cereal aisle in a megasized supermarket as an example. Does standing there choosing between a hundred different brands of cereal make you happy? If they only had cornflakes would you buy them and just get on with the rest of your life?

I'm convinced choice isn't freedom. At best it gives you a sense of power over your own destiny. At worst it brings doubt and dissatisfaction. 

I'm doing my best to battle through the overwhelming choices in my life, but I'm really beginning to believe that less is most definitely more.

Success is ...

The Guardian published their 2013 MediaGuardian 100 this week and it struck me how much we seem to enjoy these made up lists of seemingly successful and influential people. As I look at my own currently rather dreary bank balance and wildly fluctuating freelance portfolio career (!) I'm beginning to wonder if I'm successful. If I am, then what does that look like? If I'm not, then what's the secret?

It seems to me that these lists are nearly always about earning a shed load of money, being married to someone with a shed load of money, being the CEO of a big old company, or being somewhere in line to the throne. I obviously fail on all of the above, as does the vast majority of the world's population. With this in mind can any of us say we're successful? With prerequisites like these I'm beginning to question whether these lists are motivating or just a way to inspire envy and dissatisfaction.

If we continue to measure success by affluence or position it leaves very little room to feel worthwhile within the context of our own life choices.  What if our sphere of influence is only amongst our friends (Facebook ones included!) and family? What if we never make it past middle-manager, or shop floor assistant? 

Feeling slightly demoralised by all this I've decided to do a little experiment .... something of a pick me up. It's nothing new really, just some positive affirmation, a bit of a hug for the soul! I've decided to do a 'Success is .... ' photo collection. Everyday, for as long as I can be bothered, I'm going to take a picture of something I think has been successful - nothing to do with money, power or fame, just little wins that make me feel happy. My first thought was a picture of my washing line. I can't help but take pride in getting the distance between the clothes just right, with all the socks matched. But I decided to take this one instead...

It's a little DIY kit for kids to make an apron out of a tea towel. Doesn't sound like anything I usually get up too. In fact it's not remotely like planning a difficult and dangerous expedition, but craft is something I really, really enjoy. So I've put this kit together to give to a friend and her young daughter. For me - a success! I've also set up a Pinterest page where I'll post my daily 'Success is...' pictures.

So, if like me you're somewhere in the middle of the World Top 7 Billion List, then perhaps you can like my Pinterest page? But don't worry if you don't ... it's successful anyway!

Sally 

Memories of Clipper

As the yachts competing in the Clipper Round the World Race 13/14 make their way through the English Channel my right thumb begins to ache! In May 2010 I was lucky enough to jump aboard 'Singapore' as a legger - a crew member who takes on a Leg rather than a 'Worlder', who rather obviously goes round the world! 

During Leg 7 we were set to race from Jamaica to New York, before shooting off to Nova Scotia, across the Atlantic to Cork, before heading to Holland, then home to Hull. By all intents and purposes we were novices, but by Jamaica the worlders we old hands, and we leggers eager not to let the team down. 

Like all expeditions there were plenty of ups and downs. The new 2013 crews will be experiencing many of them right now. Seasickness will hit first, followed by exhaustion, panic and possibly a couple of accidents. Even with the excellent training provided by the Clipper team it's not difficult to imagine the chaos some crews will experience in their first few days at sea. The professional skippers may even be thinking..."What the hell of I got myself into!?" 

My own race had it's fair share of disasters - a dismasting, a grounding, several injuries, a couple a which were very serious - in fact I dislocated a toe and fractured my thumb (off the back end of the Isle of White, how exotic!) There were shredded sails, man-over-boards and broken steering columns. Onboard politics were a minefield, some crews were at breaking point. It's life-changing, and not always for the right reasons. 

As an ocean rower I felt at ease with whatever the seas could throw at me, but the relative complexity of the yacht, certainly in comparison to a rowing boat, and the constantly changing dynamics of the crew were at times extremely tough. Imagine eighteen people squashed into a floating caravan!

But one of my fondest memories was sharing a five hour nightshift sat on deck with a chap called Heston - nicknamed for his remarkable likeness to the bespectacled Fat Duck chef. We'd not had much of a relationship before that night; in fact the worlders clique was at times difficult to penetrate. As Heston had won the converted title of Watch Leader (aka. second in command) he was often to be found standing behind the wheel, lighting a rolly deciding whether it was time for a sail change. 

As our track across the North Atlantic demanded very little but careful helmsmanship, I sat out under the sails staring at the stars, trying not to get too cold. To my surprise Heston took a seat beside me, and we launched into a "What chocolate bar am I thinking about?" game, which left us laughing hysterically for hours! 

We didn't speak much after that, there just wasn't a suitable moment. Keeping the boat moving tends to take over. But it was one of those shared experiences that always brings back a smile. Somewhere in the middle of the ocean we were debating whether Fry's Turkish Delight really counts as a chocolate bar or not. 

Anyway, here's a post I wrote whilst aboard the good ship Singapore. It'll give you an idea of what it can be like on board. 

Do follow this year's race, it's really is an incredible adventure. If you want to see the yachts, they'll be sailing back into London next summer. 

www.clipperroundtheworld.com

***

We’d spent all morning battling hard to make it to the front of the
 fleet, only Cork and 1000 miles of ocean stood between us and a race
 win. Although still very early on, in fact this was our second day at 
sea, the crew were in top spirits. I think we were all secretly gloating
 at our early success.

The winds began to fill and the white horses were out on a gallop, Jim 
called time on the medium weight spinnaker. We’d changed spinnakers a 
hundred times before, perhaps that was our downfall? Maybe we’d become a
 little complacent, perhaps we needed to take a little more time, do a
 couple more checks? Buoyed up with enthusiasm ‘B’ Watch scattered across
 the deck manning winches and gripping guys.

It happened so quickly, I didn’t even realise we were in trouble until I saw the foot of the spinnaker hit the water.  We’d already dragged a huge body of it through the boom and onto the deck ready for a quick dispatch down the companionway. The guy rope taunted and we couldn’t hold the kite any longer and back it slipped inflating into this menacing bubble billowing out from behind the mainsail.

Jim was glued to the helm bellowing instructions, cursing as the kite filled with water. With all our might we could not get the guy back through the boom. The halyards and guys slithered off into the ocean creating an enormous octopus, which swam menacingly off our stern.

A spinnaker can sink a boat, it can pull you over and under within seconds. I have a healthy respect for their power. Even after a month’s sailing I’m still filled with trepidation when we fly one. So much can go wrong, a Chinese gybe and suddenly you’re in the drink.

The octopus was beginning to tear, I remember seeing the first rip and naively thinking “If we can get it in now a bit of Dacron will do the trick! A couple of stitches and we can get out of this one with our pride intact.” But like the dress on a Bond girl the seams began to unzip. Huge sections of the kite torn apart slipping away into the waves.

Halyards were flogging, Jim was swearing, crew were dangling precariously over the guard rail desperate to catch hold of a tentacle in an attempt to bring it into the boat. The awesome power of the wind and waves scuppered any attempt to tame the creature. I stood helpless on the pushpin watching as a section disappeared under our keel a wrapped itself neatly round our rudder.

We lost steering.

‘A’ Watch were starting to appear on deck, still crumple-faced and bleary-eyed from sleep. I can only imagine what horror they witnessed as they crawled out of the companionway. Being in the thick of things you can’t take in the full picture, the carnage that had unfolded about the ship.

Jim yelled to drop the main, with no steering and a thickening wind we couldn’t control the sail as it tumbled down towards us. Half of it made its way over the side, the other cascaded all over the port deck trapping crew and ropes alike.

“We can’t just look at it!” cried Jim. “We’ve got to get the bloody thing in!”

This was our Moby Dick, a mighty beast that seemed to elude every attempt to capture it. Crewmate holding on to crewmate as bodies reached
 well over the side to grab fabric or rope.

Singas began to breach, pitching and rolling in the swell. I didn’t see it but Jim must have discovered the reason for our demise as what remained of the kite found its way onto the deck, tugged by ten or more exhausted crew. There was barely any sail left, just tattered shreds no amount of Dacron was going to repair.

It took a while to clean up the mess, tidy the lines, release the rudder from the guy and shredded kite that had made its way under our keel.

Jim called us to the cockpit; we sat their glum faced and knackered. A couple of the lads joked but they were nervous giggles like laughing at a funeral. Jim, in his usual understated style rallied the troops.

“Well we got ourselves in a bit of a pickle!”

He went on to explain that a knot in the lazy spinnaker sheet had caused our catastrophe. He dangled the evidence in front of us. It wasn’t a knot anyone of us would tie. It’s seems if there is an opportunity for a rope to tangle and knot itself it will. The lazy sheet had caught itself around the block therefore not allowing the kite to run free. There was no way the crew could pull against a kite still attached to the other side of the boat.

I think ‘B’ Watch still felt guilty. We skulked downstairs to our bunks wandering if there was anything at all we could have done. I personally felt strange about the fact that it was partly my responsibility to take photographs of the event, it’s what ‘Media’ crew have to do, to be apart from the action and document the moment. It must take a very different personality from my own to be able to disassociate oneself and become voyeur instead of participant. I didn’t even think to get the camera. So it is my hope that this blog gives you that picture that I wasn’t able to take.

Oh, and less than 12 hours later the lightweight spinnaker blew. ‘A’ Watch were on deck and the calamity started all over again!

Notes on Rowing an Ocean

Ocean rowing is a very small world, as such it's not unusual to get a phone call out of the blue from a budding rower keen to glean some knowledge from an old hack. So I've trundled through some old interviews and I'm going to post this one, which featured on the One Life  website. I'm always happy to get those calls, so do get in touch if you want any advice about planning an expedition.

Sally

***

1. Who are you

Sally Kettle – Two-Time Atlantic Rower, Adventurer & Personal Trainer

2. The Challenge

Woodvale Atlantic Rowing Race 2003/4 and 2005/6

3. How long did it take?

1st Time – 105 days , 2nd Time  – 77 days

4. What was the distance?

Just over 3000 miles (a few extra with some figure of 8’s)

5. How much did it cost?

I’m not sure what the total cost was, but you’re looking at about £12-£15k for race entry fees, £12-£25k for a boat (either new or used), kit and travel costs change depending on your choices and the set up of the boat. Realistically think £50 -£75k and you’ll be in the right ballpark.

6. Who was / is the organiser?

The very, very first time - Challenge Business, then a successful crossing with the Ocean Rowing Society, then finally Woodvale Events. None of these organisations ruin rowing races any more though!

7. What  was it like?

Both ocean rows were incredible, and changed my life. They were also the most difficult things I’ve ever done. The rowing schedule is hardcore – 1 ½ hrs on / 1 ½ hrs off during the day, 3hrs on/ 3hrs off during the night – so is the seasickness, lack of sleep and mind numbing boredom of days at sea. But I always describe it as “camping at sea, instead of hill and cows, it’s waves and whales.”

Nothing prepares you for the struggle that is raising sponsorship for the trip. Not only is it very stressful, but also there’s a constant pressure to self-fund over and above your financial abilities. My first trip created circumstances that left me ‘signing on’, and there’s been more than a few teams who have returned from the adventure with enormous debts.

I learnt a lot in the preparation, the most important being “the more time you give to the project the more likely you are to get sponsorship. If you can’t give time, then be prepared to self-finance”. Finding your sponsors and creating and maintaining a professional relationship with them takes time.

When hardened ocean rowers tell you, “If you can make it to the start, then you can make to the finish” this is definitely true. On both occasions we spent over a year getting the row together, but whenever I felt like crap at sea I reminded myself what it took to get there.

As for the row, well I’ve never spent so much time in pain! From blisters to sciatica, constant muscle pain to overwhelming exhaustion I was in pain 24hrs a day. If you intend to take this on, know that it will be emotionally and physically painful. Having said that, we made it across and arrived with smiles on our faces!

With the Rowgirls crew in particular we faced horrendous conditions, huge seas, ferocious winds and rain for a month! We also struggled with injuries, which led to one of the team leaving the boat and disqualifying us from the race. It was an emotional rollercoaster but we pulled together and against the odds (no rudder, a shark attack and a broken watermaker) we still crossed the finish line.

It’s very easy to get caught up in the race, and many a crew have come home lamenting the fact that they didn’t make the crossing fast enough, that they didn’t win the race, or beat such and such a team or that so and so cheated. For many it will be their only opportunity to sit in a little wooden rowing boat in the middle of an ocean, away from the stresses and strains of modern life, travelling at the speed of a passing whale. If I’ve learnt anything from my adventures it’s this – take time to appreciate it, because what seems to be never ending will be over in the blink of an eye. So when you head out there stop rowing, watch for whales and swim in water 7 miles deep!

8. How should you / did you train?

My thoughts have changed a lot when it comes to training since completing my ocean rows. I now believe there are two ways to look at it. 1. What physical training will make you feel capable of completing the row, and 2. What training will actually make you capable of completing the row and returning to land in good shape?

As a novice I remember focusing on no.1. – pounding out hours of rowing on an erg, believing it would fully prepare me for the trip. It didn’t. But when I got to the start line I mentally felt able to complete the task. I returned having lost a considerable amount of skeletal muscle, which converted itself into fat as I regained my lost 2 stones, and I caught every cold going. I also wasn’t very strong whilst out at sea, this probably resulted in the constant pain.

If I could change the way I trained for the adventure, I would focus on gaining muscle, especially in my core, my back and legs and spending less time on the rowing machine. I think this is particularly important for female teams as we women carry a lot less muscle, so we need to gain more and be ready to lose it, along with body fat, whilst at sea.

Instead I would spend more time on weight and flexibility training and stick to rowing on board the boat. This can be tricky if you’re still raising money to buy it, but when you look at those who have had successful and fast crossing they spent a good proportion of their training getting comfortable at sea in a boat.

Having qualified as a Personal Trainer I’m now more than happy to support any team who plan to attempt a crossing. So please do contact me if you’d like a specific training plan – www.dont-hope-do.com

9. Any other useful hints / links?

Really think about the Time/Money equation. If you can’t spend time finding money to fund your adventure then expect to fork out using your own finances. I personally do not believe the row is worth remortgaging your home or leaving yourself in debt because you’ve over borrowed. There are sponsors out there and they are usually somebody you already know, you just have to spend a lot of time trying to find them.

Also, you don’t always have to find cash, take a look at your long list kit etc. much of it can be sponsorship in kind. You only need ready cash for purchasing the boat, race entry fees, insurance, shipping, travel and accommodation.

Look at the row as a physical job, much like a builder or a gardener. Your job is to row. It doesn’t seem so hard if you imagine you’re committing to a job rather than an ‘endurance challenge’.

Know that you will make mistakes, and it doesn’t matter how many rowers you talk to before you go. They’ll be more than happy to tell you what they should or shouldn’t have done. Take their advice but know that you’ll do something daft anyway!

Be careful with charities. Remember, with no disrespect to them, it’s in their nature to be selfish. It’s very easy to over commit time and energy to a charity and struggle to fund and train for the row. Be sure that any relationship you plan to have with your charity is very clear i.e. will you only give them money after you’ve made it to the start line? How will you proportion donations? For example, you desperately need a life jacket but a donor has given you £100 for the charity- who will you spend the money on? How much support will the charity give you? Will they approach their regular fundraisers and ask them to raise on your behalf or will they just give you some balloons and a bucket and let you get on with it?

If you want to raise a significant sum, and my rows raised almost £300,000, then your charity has to be part of team. You can’t organise this on your own, and a charity already has the resources and the infrastructure to do it. Buy them into the challenge and ask them to work as hard for you as you will for them and I promise the rewards will be sweeter!

Finally, leave your arrogance at home. I’ve been to many race starts and can tell you that every single team who has strutted about the pontoons with a chip on their shoulder has returned to eat humble pie. The ocean doesn’t care about the race, and it will break you if it sees fit, and once you’re out there your most important priority is to return to your loved ones alive.

To find out more about ocean rowing go to:

www.oceanrowing.com

www.oceanrowers.com

Does Hope Help?

In January, 2013 I was luck enough to be invited to do a talk on Radio 4's FourThought. I decided to discuss my theory that hope doesn't always help. To be honest I expected there to be a backlash, with suggestions that for many hope was essential for survival and how could I possibly question it?! 

But I did in fact receive some amazing, heartfelt feedback from people who really felt my talk resonated with them, and how they were feeling. So here's the transcript of the original talk. Let me know you thoughts. To hear the talk go HERE

Sally

**


We're entering a world where language is being reduced to 140 characters or fewer. Where the 'youth of today' have become oblivious to the nuances of the English language (whatever happened to grammar, spelling ... PUNCTUATION?) Either that or I'm getting old! Don't get me wrong I understand how language changes and adapts over time, I have an array of grammatical bad habits (my husband dismays at my use of less and fewer!) but words do have their own power and it's this that I want to explore. 

So, for example, you could say that by using the word 'Love' too often you reduce its power. I'm going to challenge you and suggest that if you say 'Hope' too often it reduces your own power.  The context in which we use words has meaning, it represents who we are, what we're about, what drives us. So I'm going to explore a question that has resonated with me since my experiences at sea.  

Does 'hope' help? 

First I'm going to look at the word 'hope', how it's used, how it effects the way we think, feel and deal with situations in our lives; the power it gives us, but also the power it takes away. But perhaps its best to start with a definition... You know where you are with a word when you've found its meaning in the Oxford English Dictionary (or Wikipedia, if you're a child of the Internet like I am!) Here we go... "Hope is the emotional state which promotes the 'belief' in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life." We all use it as a gesture "I hope you do well", " I hope you recover..." "I hope you can make it..." And of course it's an expression of optimism, "I hope so!"

It appears in religious contexts as one of the theological virtues - faith, hope and charity. Hope, as I understand it, reflecting our desire to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.During his Presidential campaign, even one of the most influential men in the world - Barak Obama - made extensive reference to hope as having the stubbornness of character to persist in the face of adversity.

All these hopes are all well and good, but my use of 'hope' today isn't any of those. It's what you might call wishful idealism, a desire that something will change, or someone will intervene... it's the hope that's supposed to right wrongs, restore balance and make the world a better place. I'm going to have to come clean and tell you that I'm low in the spirituality stakes. I respect the views of others with faith but I'm not blessed with it myself and perhaps that's why I wouldn't dream of looking to another to change the way things are or are going to be. I also don't have much time for fate and the idea that some are destined for greatness, whilst others are chosen to suffer. But... I digress.... 

Anyway, I'd better explain where I'm going with this! I'd like to take you out to sea, because that's where this thought bubble really started to take shape. You'll need to imagine me with my petite ginger haired gardener of a mother.
Sarah. 
Sagittarius. 
We're in a little rowing boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean some fifteen hundred miles from anywhere in every direction. It's one of those rare occasions where the nearest manmade object is a satellite orbiting above the earth. We were attempting to row from La Gomera, in the Canaries, to Barbados, a journey of 3000 miles, maybe a bit more because sometimes we went round in circles!

Neither of us had any ocean rowing experience, but one thing we did share was the goal of "Not to fail!" In fact I didn't realise I shared this 'no failure' perspective with my mother until we jumped aboard the boat together. Here we were content in our little world of never ending blueness, but we had a problem...We were going in the wrong direction! We were supposed to be going to Barbados and we were floating to Florida. At that point I was not a joy to be with! I was whinging a lot!   "I hope the wind changes, I hope the weather changes!!"

Mum shouted STOP!! Stop hoping all the time. In this situation it doesn't help! For years my mum and I hadn't had the best of relationships,  in lots of ways I'd 'hoped' that it would somehow sort itself out.

When I left  home at 16 that 'hope' definitely didn't help and I struggled in the relationship with my mother until I saw an opportunity where I could change it. I entered an ocean rowing race and asked her to come with me. I knew she would be bloody minded enough to do it, and maybe it would be a chance to get to know my mum. For some strange reason she said yes. It changed our lives forever. 

So here we were floating to Florida, I was hopelessly hoping and Mum was about ready to hit me round the face with a wet flying fish. So with Mum still being my mum, when she told me off... I had to listen! She explained..."In this situation hope doesn't help, we can only do what we can do in the situation as it presents itself. If the weather's good we row, if its not, we rest or clean the boat."  So we adopted the phrase "No hope on the boat". Sounds a bit defeatist doesn't it? But it worked for us. 

Of course the weather changed and we zoomed at 2.5knots into Barbados. Four months at sea! A chap in his 60's, rowing on his own, came in a month quicker than we did! We were built for comfort not for speed, but we'd become the first mother and daughter to row any ocean, with a world record to boot. 

So, this idea of 'no hope on the boat' has really stuck with me. I became conscious of every time I said "I hope so" and "I hope this" and "I hope that". If I hoped was I making a decision? Or was I stopping myself from taking control of my own destiny? At times it felt as if I was waiting for divine intervention.  As you now know, I'm not at all spiritual so I could have been waiting for a very long time! I realised that when I hoped I was actually procrastinating. I was saying it whenever things were out of my control or when I had no intention of taking action.  I had a bit of a Eureka moment - I decided to become a hope-less person, and find out what it really means to live without hope. I wanted to know if it made me any less optimistic about life and the opportunities within it. With so many religions underpinned by the giving, receiving and believing in hope would I be a less virtuous person for not wanting hope in my own life? 

When I shared my thoughts with friends they were horrified! I thought of Dante and that warning in the Divine Comedy, written over the gates of hell. You know. 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here!' All very melodramatic and a bit scary....  Well what if abandoning hope wasn't some terrifying prospect but plain common sense, and solid advice? Not just for life in hell (or even heaven) but for life in the big bit in between... The bit where most of us spend most of our time! It doesn't have to feel like purgatory to live without hope. Maybe if we forced ourselves to think of practical alternatives we might do the right thing here on earth? 

Anyway, I decided to try out hopelessness for a while, I'd check myself every time I went to say it. It's particularly relevant at the moment because I'm trying to achieve the seemingly impossible. I'm producing my first feature film. There exists an overwhelming temptation to answer the inevitable questions with an 'I Hope So' here and a 'Hopefully' there. But I must admit I'm not despairing more now that I hope less, in fact I'm more optimistic than ever before. I think that's because I take action more often. This doesn't mean I'm constantly 'doing' something irrespective of whether it's appropriate or not. I'm just actively making a choice... And that could mean choosing to do nothing. 

I've started to believe that for many of us 'to hope' is to be passive - it's asking God, or fate or something or someone else to intervene. I also worry that with hope comes expectation . . . often unrealistic, and sometimes disappointing. I'm not suggesting that we dispense with hope completely, just maybe turning it into a taboo word for a while, and seeing what happens! I do agree that there are some dire circumstances where holding on to hope seems like the only way to survive. There are many situations where one's opportunity to make choices has been taken from you. I also appreciate that many people rely on hope for survival. But in becoming hope-less I've become more aware of the privileges of my own up bringing and my good health, and now it's something I try not to take for granted.  

With all this in mind you can imagine that I was dismayed by Barak Obama's Audacity of Hope campaign. (Dismayed is a slight exaggeration, but you know what I mean?!)Surely it is more audacious to be active, to actually do something? To take responsibility for yourself, your family and your community. To me it seemed that he was peddling positivity, but with nothing substantial to back it up. 

It's interesting because I had a debate with a friend about this.... He mentioned that he'd seen Obama speak, that he was fantastically charismatic and inspirational.  My friend also said "Surely inciting hope 'might' inspire people to take action?" "Might inspire?" It's semantics, but wouldn't a call to action, 'actual action' be more appropriate? 

"We shall fight on the beaches, 
we shall fight on the landing grounds, 
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, 
we shall fight in the hills; 
we shall never surrender" 

This to me sound far more powerful than ...
"I hope we don't get invaded.
I hope we'll be able to fight them on the beaches!
And if we all hope together, then hopefully we'll win the war!"

With the United States filled with hopers, I wonder how many will be left disappointed by the lack of definitive action? If there are choices and actions that we can take, then perhaps we should stop hoping and start doing?


Back to Mum again, perhaps Obama should meet her, he'd learn a thing or two!!
My mum has a friend, an elderly lady she looks after. Her name's Gladys 108. 108 because that's what she turned this year. 108 years old!! Everyone wants to find out how she's done it, how she's kept going. I always want her to say it's that half bottle of red wine she drinks every night! But mum says she's a bit fed up of being asked about it all the time! Anyway, Gladys told her "You've just got to keep living!" That's the secret. It sounds like a very action based plan to me! 

So, I have a suggestion. I'm going to borrow from Edward De Bono who suggested 'Po' as an alternative to yes and no - he wanted to aid more creative thinking, although the Po thing was a stupid idea! I mean what if someone asked you if you wanted a cup of tea? If you answer with a "Po" what does that mean? "Yes please, that'll be white, two sugars, thank you!" 

But, the notion holds good because it frees up our thought processes. We stop relying on old words and related concepts of thinking. So we're back to the idea of treating hope as a taboo word for a while, and maybe looking for a new one to replace it? 

So if hope is controlling our horizons, rather than helping us see beyond them, I'm going to suggest the word 'wonder' as one of the alternatives. It's not going to fit every context, but it's a good place to start. So, if you wondered instead of hoped then you'd present yourself with a question rather than a belief. I wonder if this will happen or I wonder if that will take place? You're asking yourself a question, so it spurs you into action to find the answer.  

So, what if we abandoned hope, as word and as mindset, even in desperate circumstance? What if we addressed the fear (which hope is also meant to help with, but doesn't really) by wondering about the consequences of our actions, or lack of them? What if we looked at all the things we could do (instead of just hoping), and forced ourselves to choose the best course of action?  

I'm going to take you back to the boat again.... This time a different one. I'm with three other girls, and we're attempting to be the first women's four to row the Atlantic. We want to cross in the fastest time and gain another world record. Unfortunately we faced the worst weather in the Atlantic for nearly 200years. We rowed in 40ft waves and 40knot winds. During a storm, one of my crew, Jo slipped and hurt her back. She decided to leave the boat and in doing so she disqualified us from the race. It's all beginning to sound a bit dire isn't it?! 

After Jo was taken off the boat, Sue, Claire and I took to the cabin. During the night we were hit by an almighty wave and we almost turned turtle. We spent the night in the dark talking through the emergency procedures. What we'd do if we had to abandon ship, how we'd deploy the life raft, what would happen if we lost each other in the water, in the dark?In those hours I faced the stark reality that this situation could end my life.  But I don't remember hoping....I knew the weather would change, we just needed to sit it out. I also knew that blind faith would not save us if things went wrong. Only action in the face of adversity would help our chances of survival. We battened down the hatches, pulled on life jackets, gathered our emergency equipment to our bosoms and tried to get some sleep. Of course, the storm settled and we returned to the oars. There was no hope on the boat and it worked for me. 

Oh, by the way we didn't get a world record, in fact I think we came in third from last, but we did make it across alive, and that's good enough for me! I think Churchill would have been proud! 

So I'll leave you with the question again... 

Does hope help? 

If it does, then please hold on to it.... But, upon consideration if you're just procrastinating .... then maybe it's time to do something? 

So for now, as I mentioned before, I may be little low on the spirituality scale, but I think it's relevant to quote from the Gospel according to St Elvis.  

"A little less conversation, a little more action please!" 

***

Be the Role Model

There seems to be a Role Model phenomenon. There’s never been another generation where the assignment and importance of a role model has been so keenly described. We’ve created a society where those who are successful are, by default, a role model. But what does that mean to them and to those who look up and aspire to be them?

I keenly describe myself as a role model because I understand that my actions and behaviour have influence over those around me. Within my social sphere I would argue that I have more influence than say Victoria Beckham or Jessie Ennis.

With this in mind I believe we should all look to be role models, particularly with regards to sport and fitness. We will not combat the obesity epidemic by relying on the Olympic athletes to inspire the younger generation entirely on their own! We need to be the inspiration, to show our own friends and family that we can and are embracing a healthy active lifestyle. The vast majority of us will never be top-flight athletes but we can all endeavour to take on the fitness challenge.

I don’t underestimate the impact athletes do have on the aspirations of young people, especially those who have talent and want to commit to a sporting pursuit. The effect is ever more potent when successful female athletes are given a platform on which to talk about their experiences. A young person needs to be able to relate to that story and compare it to their own circumstances, to create the “if they can do it, I can do it to’ effect.

Because women’s sport doesn’t currently have priority we’re struggling to draw out these stories. This needs to change, and we know this. We have the privilege (!) to learn from the mistakes in men’s sport – misbehaving footballers, disgraced golfers etc. With the right guidance the female athletes of the future can be more than just a runner, a rower etc. as teachers, coaches and parents can instill in young women the importance of their influence, and the burden and responsibility of success.

But remember we can all do this, and we shouldn’t pass the buck to these sporty young folk. We all need to step up and be role models too! The fact is we already are. So ask yourself the question - if you were a teenage now would you aspire to be the person you are today?