Dear Daddy…

I miss you. And Happy Father’s Day.

I miss your sense of humor, your wisdom and the very un-Irish, Talmudic way you drove home your messages, with questions.

And yet, even selfishly, I’m not inclined to “wish you were here”. The world you imagined has not yet materialized.

How lovely it would have been had your story neatly concluded as did Judy Collins’ My Father story in her song.

I miss your rabid environmentalism…

Remember telling my 5, 6 & 7 year old self all about the natural world?

All about Five Acres and Independence?

You’ll be pleased to know it’s still in print. Good thing too – because while it was meant to teach subsistence living to a post-depression generation – there are a few generations coming who will likely need it.

More on the economics of that another time.

mde

Recently, I found a musty old copy of “The Silent Spring” which looks a lot like this one here.

Though a funny thing happened as I re-read it. I heard your voice. Not while reading Rachael Carson’s words – but in remembering all your asides. You know – the ones where you imagined that I’d live in a house with a rainwater cistern built into the plumbing or irrigating the garden. Where the sun and wind would contribute to my energy usage. And where I’d be using grey water from the dishwasher and washer to flush the toilets.

Sadly though, not yet. And not even likely in my lifetime.

Do you remember telling me that the oil embargo in ’73 was a good thing? We were going to drive smaller cars, rely less on fossil fuel and run cars on electricity. Electric cars took another 40 years and they’ve still not caught on. Cars only stayed small until we forgot. Less than a decade on.

We recycle now, as you said we would. Though not universally. Landfills overflow, and the oceans are full of plastic. A dead whale was found in Thailand with 17 lbs. of plastic in its gut. Even fresh water streams are polluted with micro beads of plastic from the synthetic clothes we wash.

And while the bald eagle is back, I’m afraid the last male Northern White Rhino died this year. Few seem to notice that we’re losing about 150 plant, insect, bird and mammal species every day.

I miss your compassion and concern for others…

Another lesson came to mind recently, on encyclicals, labor and social justice.

I was six.

How much did you think I could understand? Did you know we wouldn’t have enough years to talk about these things when I was grown? Or was it just the heady, optimistic times in which we lived?

I can still hear your belly laugh when I came home from First Grade with the campaign rhyme –

Kennedy in the White House talking on the phone, Nixon in the doghouse chewing on a bone.

And then he won. An upstart Catholic in the White House! You were sure that meant there would be attention paid to social justice. Sure wasn’t that why the “Power Elite” fought so hard against “the papist”?

And it was John XXIII’s time. I can still here the passion and faith with which you explained why you’d been an organizer, why labor unions were so important and how it had been the words of Pious XIII’s Rerum Novarum which inspired all that in you. You explained it all in my Communion year. You wanted me to understand the significance of a that year’s Papal Directive on Christianity and Social Progress.

For what it’s worth – the only part that really sunk into my young brain was the point you made about my uncles, your brothers. They were steel workers. You said they worked harder at back breaking work, than you did at a desk. You could do your job to 65 or 70 or beyond – but their bodies wouldn’t last to pension age. That was why a balance between labor and capital – as well as respect for the difference in an earned vs. an unearned dollar – was important.

How did you know that I’d remember enough?

Is that why you went on at great length about social justice, job provision and social safety nets? By then I was 10, 11 and 12.

I miss the power of your storytelling…

I loved the long drives and vivid recollections you shared during our Sunday visits – driving through the reservoirs, parks and forests built by CCC workers.  It wasn’t until years later that I understood it was your own experience of poverty framing your description of life in those camps. Bleak as it was, it offered the only housing and work available.

I remember all the buildings we visited – most artfully embellished with friezes and sculptures owed to the New Deal’s WPA architects. And that you appreciated the pragmatism born of desperate times, enhanced by a respect for the creative.

Often I recall your awe for the power of what the public and private sector could accomplish in the sheer depth and breadth of the infrastructure projects, iconic skyscrapers and the monuments you’d point out in our drives around New York City, upstate New York and New England.

I even miss “the look”…

I live in Ireland now.

In my imagination, we visit and I giggle most Saturdays mornings in all but July and August. It’s then that I bring in wood and peat for the stoves. It makes me recall your beleaguered expression and shaking head when you described life in Ireland on return from Grandpa’s funeral here. You always began with – “Kiss the American ground you were born on…” followed by vivid and unattractive descriptions of the third world country Ireland was then.

With each filled basket, I can conjure the look. Your loving eyes are firmly fixed on me from over the top of your glasses. I hear you exclaim, “You silly witch, did your grandfather not see to it that we were born in a world of boilers and indoor plumbing?”

And so he did.

But clearly there was a circle in need of closing.

I returned a century after he left. Nearly 50 years after he died. I wasn’t actually aiming for ‘his Ireland’, though I find myself stuck in it.

As penance for some as yet undetermined failing, I work at telling your stories, sharing your wisdom and hoping that as America has abandoned its promise, moving forward, perhaps Ireland can adopt it.

The call to ‘my Ireland’ came after years on an annual course. The week-long events were set in Sligo, Cavan, Antrim, Donegal, Down and Mayo studying Jung and archetypal psychology.  Here I met Bridget, Grace and Maeve – in a place where feminine characters and the land dominate in myth. That divine feminine is what called me and where my hope for this place resides.

Here I experience the ancient and natural worlds as you shared them. Living close to the land demands a respect for riotous springs, abundant harvests and the work of just showing up for the hard labor in between.

It invites us to celebrate the way seasons punctuate our year.

We closed a circle there as well. I am at home with an agrarian, eight season calendar grounded in ritual and festival. I felt it while rearing your granddaughters in a faith tied to festivals like Imbolc and Lughnasa,  known to them as Tu Bishvat and Sukkot.

And I live in medial space…

Literally. On the border of Ulster – just beyond the Pale. And not far from Mary Gale Earley’s home place. Her journey informs so much of my understanding here. From Ireland to America, Protestant to Catholic, who could have imagined that a quote from John Henry Newmans faith journey printed on her memorial card, would provide insight into my struggle to understand this land of them-uns and us-uns?

And figuratively. I live as you did. Devout in your faith, and excommunicated nonetheless. Neither in nor out of Rome’s good graces. I too, live as the other – an American neither Catholic nor Protestant neither in or out of communion with my neighbors.

And always, I carry with me your good humored observation that…

We’ll get there, by degrees. The way an Irishman goes to heaven.

And while ‘we’ll’ not get where you thought we were going in my lifetime, I am confident that your granddaughters will move the world in the direction of your dreams.

They made those very same road trips, they heard you marveling at those miracles of social and economic progress albeit in my voice, and learned the optimism and sense of possibility that your “Greatest Generation” brought to the world. And I’m reminding them here.

I too, offer every 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12 year old too much information, enthusiastically – knowing that something will come of it. Even if it takes a generation or two.

So for now –

Good-night; ensured release,
Imperishable peace,
Have these for yours,
While sea abides, and land,
And earth’s foundations stand,
And heaven endures.

When earth’s foundations flee,
Nor sky nor land nor sea
At all is found,
Content you, let them burn:
It is not your concern;
Sleep on, sleep sound.

Reciting Parta Quies comforts me.

And it makes me smile to remember another look over the top of your glasses, with a beleaguered expression and shaking head. All while lamenting over your lot to have had a daughter who favored the work of Houseman over Yeats, Joyce and countless other Irish poets.

He was, in your words, “That drunken, gay, Brit”.

Sleep on, Daddy, sleep sound.




On NI, flags & the ‘je ne sais quoi’ of leadership…

Thank you to Alan Carson for suggestion my attendance and to Stephen Gough for organising “The State of the Union; Beyond 2021” event in East Belfast this week. The impression I left with was that we are all aching for great leadership.

This is the first of two posts I will offer on my insights from the session.fullsizeoutput_161




Leadership, Tangible style

“Do as I say, not as I do!” …or not!

When Tangible Ireland began in 2009, we were experiencing a lot of that kind of leadership in Ireland.

Founder, Raymond Sexton believed that an emphasis on the positive was required.

• What was going well?
• Who were the people driving the success stories?
• Did anyone else believe we were better than our bottom line?

He began to examine what drove excellence in leadership both at home and abroad.

The perspective was that of an engineer and project manager experienced in helping multinationals invest and build facilities in Ireland, a homecomer returned from a decade in Australia, and a closet historian.

Who the Irish are in Ireland and who we become when we go abroad is a fascinating study.*

And the many Tangible ambassadors, partners and guests have joined him in studying it – up close and personally, across the island of Ireland and worldwide.

There have been over sixty Tangible seminars in global cities – Dublin, London, New York and Sydney; regional capitals – Belfast, Limerick & Galway; and in the urban & rural villages that lie at the heart of Irish life and values – Howth, Kilmallock and Crossmaglen.

There’s a common denominator in all these communities. We honor our original associations, whether counties, communities, schools, or team affiliations, we pay it forward and take care of our own. We are industries, joyous, playful and determined.

Here’s what we do:

Imagine the simplicity of a “3 pinned plug” and the energy it channels. It’s the way each Tangible Seminar is designed. We showcase and model the best business and civic leadership in a region by:

• focusing on the maverick and entrepreneurial “live wires” – the local leaders driving change
• highlighting and sharing connections to the startup, trade & inward investment support offered in the Republic and in Northern Ireland
• recognising our citizens at home, abroad and in transition, uniting them in their efforts to prosper both here and across the Diaspora

Here’s what we’ve learned:

• at home and abroad our values never change
• our Diaspora represents our greatest asset; vast supplies of human capital available for spending and investment
• our citizens never cease to be our citizens

Here’s what we believe:

• Personal, business and trade relationships empower us individually & collectively, in our new lands and across Ireland.
• Our citizens never cease to be entitled to be heard.
• At home, abroad or in transition, we owe each other a duty of care, including responsible stewardship of this island, economically, environmentally and politically.

This drive for excellence in leadership and best practices reflects our duty of care to the next generation by making this island fit to come home to, or to never be forced to leave.

We are survivors.

Who we are and who we become, whether we stay here or go abroad needs to reflect our best hope for the future of our Irish or Northern Irish children and grandchildren in the Americas, the EU, the UK, Oz or elsewhere.

To join us in San Francisco on Thursday, 21. July  or at the annual Ambassador Summer School here in Ireland follow the links to register.

For a great summary of why Tangible travels the globe in search of “live wires” – here it is:

*…who we become when we go abroad as described by one of our own:

Beehan; psychosis

 

 

 

 

 




Entrepreneurial Ecosystem – Pivotal or Peripheral?

Entrepreneurial ecosystemPeripheral to two capitals that benefit from significant foreign direct investment, policies favouring support of 21st century technologies plus agencies committed to expanding markets, the NI/ROI border region is uniquely placed to focus on just three of these six key pillars.

Human Capital, Supports and Culture

Our task is to develop these to ensure we can fully participate. In an age of a mobile and freelance workforce, geographically peripherality does not preclude our being pivotal to both markets

A skilled workforce is educated, confident, flexible and resilient. Peer to peer educational and networking opportunities serve to showcase local entrepreneurial success stories, highlight opportunities and encourage our somewhat risk averse population to follow their lead.

At the core, programs like BizCamps, Newry Creates, Women that Work among others, address the roots of our collective difficulty with ambition & self-promotion.

We signpost resources designed to provide mentorship among peers, encouraging participants to “pay it forward” volunteering with outreach efforts like CoderDoJo and Drone Academy to inspire and support skill building among young people as well as the unemployed.

Where opportunities may not yet exist we support people seeking to create them.

Learn more…

 




Paying it Forward in the Digital Age

Never has it been easier! Resolve to be a “Digital Media Mensch“* in 2015.

It costs little and you’re out there anyway.images

A great recipe for money management is saving 10% of what you earn. Some folks with a charitable mindset strive to contribute 10%. Seem steep? Give of yourself, give your time!

Even just one percent of your work week. Work an 8 hour day? That’s 480 minutes. Consider adding 5 minutes on line, 5 days a week. A gift of 1%.

Now:

  • Recommend a business that served you well
  • Congratulate a Startup, SME or Micro-business on whatever platform you favor
  • Thank your tribe – tell your followers & connections what benefit they’ve brought – even if just a smile
  • Introduce a service professional to a potential customer
  • Like, favorite or comment on discussion – engagement helps everyone

Could give more? Up it to 2% -10 minutes and you’ll have time to ask folks what digital media support they could use. Be available to open doors.

  • New menu at a local cafe you frequent? Tweet about it – help drive traffic
  • Refurbished premises? Sale on the High Street, Award Winners? Spread the word
  • Repost, retweet or recommend an event – help an organizer fill a room

Creating community begins with one relationship at a time. You don’t have to love your neighbor, you don’t even have to like them. If you like what they’re doing, and if they’re adding value to the community – help them along.Churchill-quote-on-giving-300x225

 

*In Yiddish, mentsh roughly means “a good person.” The word has migrated as a loanword into American English, where a mensch is a particularly good person, similar to a “stand-up guy”, a person with the qualities one would hope for in a friend or trusted colleague. (Wikipedia)




Remembrance; Veteran’s Day is complicated…*

November.Poppies w flanders poem Conscious of and indebted to the efforts of veterans worldwide – I remember.

An American expat living in Ireland, in matters of politics I have pacifist leanings. I am, however, untroubled by a passion for honouring the military and sacrifices made on my behalf. Generations of sacrifices.

American veterans, British veterans, Canadian, German, Irish, Italian, Japanese, Israeli and Arab veterans, I make no distinction. Every one was called upon by his or her motherland to serve.

Service. Few of those who served or died had a say in the arguments, feuds and passions that led to the conflicts. Some followed reprehensible orders, all faced circumstances I have not. I respect their service, even when not in service to my ideals.

On the eleventh day of the eleventh month at the eleventh hour every year, I am proud to say that I have thought of, prayed and cried for the sacrifices of all veterans. Perhaps due to my age or the fact that I am an American of Irish and Italian descent who is Jewish, my mind goes first to the soldiers who liberated the concentration camps. Beyond the dangers they faced in their war efforts up until that day, most took to their graves the horror of what they witnessed, and it was only in its aftermath.

My uncle was an Italian soldier who spent most of WWII in a Russian POW camp. Was his sacrifice less noble or costly because the leadership of his homeland chose the “other” side? I know an Israeli veteran whose service in the Lebanon war haunts him to this day. You get my point: Veteran’s day is complicated.

I never thought that before, it was driven home by an effort in 2010 to obtain a small red poppy for a British expat in the states. I lived in Carlingford, on the border with Northern Ireland, the UK.  I assumed that in my travels I would be able to make a donation and pick up this token of remembrance known all over the British Isles.

Not so. “Ah sure, but you wouldn’t want to be trying to find that.”  “No lass, we wouldn’t be wearing that around here.” “You’re brave to be asking for one of those.”

I have learned to challenge that response. 50,000 Irish soldiers died in WWI and many now serve with UN peacekeepers. I am sorry for the legacy of the British occupation. I try to be sensitive to both sides.

That said, I am outraged by the intolerance and disrespect of the young men and women who serve their homelands, anywhere. Especially here.

Whether in victory or defeat we must celebrate the gift of the lives veterans and their families have given. That gift is literally our present.

I have a US homeland, thanks to brave grandparents who emigrated. Ireland is now home.

  • My Irish forbearers were driven out by the policies of the British. Can I hold that against a British soldier now in service to causes I support?
  • The Irish government generously regards this grandchild born abroad, a citizen. It’s soldiers serve bravely with UN peacekeeping troops worldwide. Can I blame an Irish soldier for the Republic’s neutrality in the face of genocide during WWII?
  • The genocide that left my Jewish children deprived of extended families that exist no longer? Here as a Jew I am pilloried as an extension of the Israeli occupation. I have no connection to Israel, but should I disdain the service of her young?
  • Jews trapped in European homelands 70 years ago were dependent upon and betrayed by soldiers in whose armies many had served. Later they were grateful to the soldiers of other homelands who liberated them.

Whose soldiers and what sacrifices would you have me forget?

*This is an edited version of a post which originally appeared in November 2010. It was followed by another on the objections of some to observance of Remembrance Day in Northern Ireland schools.




Community…on an Authentic Political Identity

A post On Becoming Empowered Citizens described my sense that Ireland was, metaphorically, in an adolescent place ready to rebel against the authorities such as the church and state, and reclaim the power relinquished to them in absolute trust  and obedience for generations. The recent election certainly reflected a beginning.

That spoke to the way we have handled our political response to the economic crisis, however, we proved ourselves fully adult and authentic in our political identity as citizens of the Republic of Ireland.

The high points of the recent visit by the Queen have been well reported. Coverage of the ceremony at the Garden of Remembrance was as moving as my own first experience of it. I’ve little doubt the British head of state mourned the loss of her dear uncle and the British young who served their country. She did so while honouring the Irish who died.  The capacity to hold the grief on both sides is born of maturity.

I was pleased and proud to count myself as an Irish citizen most significantly during her visit to Cork. Her warm reception during the walkabout, not possible in Dublin, was a fitting appreciation for her effort to come. The maturity of calling a demonstration not in protest but in celebration of Cork’s Republican past a respectfully short distance away, was heroic and historic.

The peace process is clearly that, a process. We are not all at the same stage of acceptance, of reconciliation or even in agreement. But the gathering at Sullivan’s Quay was a respectful acknowledgment of our shared process. While accepting the reality of the democratically elected government’s invitation, there was a positive assertion of another narrative. We as citizens of this Island – whether North and South of the border each have our own narrative. Respect for each other and our stories is all that is required for the peace process to move forward.

The leadership of Sinn Féin has clearly struggled within their ranks to move their narrative to a place which allowed for the respectful treatment of this particular foreign head of state. Perhaps there is a lesson in that struggle for us all.

The words spoken were clearly well chosen and even well rehearsed on all sides. I believe that will be the way that we move the conversation forward. I would support all friends, colleagues and readers to come together and develop a language for the respectful treatment of each other’s stories. None of us can afford to take offense when it is not intended, nor can we be unthinking in our choice of language.

Let us choose our words carefully, in English and in Irish. Let us choose to be inclusive and respectful of our individual sense of our identities. Let us move forward in a way that allows us to never have to say of this period that there is much “which we would wish had been done differently or not at all.




Community…Optimism for an Irish Prosperity Process

Today I am energised and joyful.  Thank you to the folks committed to striving for “Excellence in Ireland”. I joined them in London. There was no better way for an Irish-American expat to spend Thanksgiving 2010.

Imagine optimism, ambition and a call for excellence by determined Irish folk and their supporters on both sides of the Irish Sea and across the Diaspora.

Imagine Enterprise Ireland presenting great news: 139 Irish companies entering the UK market in the last 18 months; an additional 78 to Europe. This is a committed group with a structured program of expanding markets for Irish businesses.  Imagine that Irish construction companies expand their capacity and strategically market with Portuguese and Spanish companies to open markets in South America, it’s happening!  This is not a bunch of bureaucrats ticking boxes; this is a dynamic group – aggressively bringing Irish business to the world stage, where larger markets and opportunities abound. Then imagine a technology product that is bringing the story of our innovations worldwide – via live feeds, videos and conferencing – not a boring report in sight!

Imagine a commitment to sustain the unique identity and contribution of the Irish to London illustrated in talks by our host at the Irish Cultural Centre in Hammersmith and by a representative from the Federation of Irish Societies.  The cultural centre is committed to programming that brings the richness of Irish culture to Irish emigrants, their descendants and a wider UK audience.  How Irish Are You? www.howirishareyou.com is an effort to have UK Irish emigrants and their descendants “tick the Irish box” on the UK census in March. An undercount in the last census impacted allocation of funds to specific community needs – getting it right could have an impact on funding from leaner budgets going forward.

Imagine a movement to bring the vote to all Irish citizens living abroad.  Ireland and Greece are the only EU countries who don’t give their citizens abroad the vote.  Imagine that if you are forced to emigrate for work, you would be ensured a say in electing and empowering new leadership who will pave the way for a recovery that could bring you or your children home.

Imagine a social network of Irish people worldwide, helping each other find jobs or comfort in the diaspora. A message delivered via video at the London launch of www.Rendezvous353.com came from Jordan.  (paraphrased) I’m sorry, I’d love to be there but we had a previous commitment to raise a glass and watch “the game” among our Irish friends here. Imagine mining the site for Irish business & social contacts worldwide!

Imagine a book of the found photographs of Father Francis Brown whose chronicle of Ireland and her people between 1894 and 1937 has just been published;  priest, philosopher, WWI chaplain – a Renaissance man and lover of all places and things Irish. His  grand-nephew has preserved this bygone era. A bold footnote to our meeting and – a reminder of what we love about the place the people entirely unchanged by current politics and economics.

Imagine frank talk by a Belfast entrepreneur who told us about  Northern Irish Connections. Beyond this effort to engage the Diaspora with an ambitious program to highlight and report back how best to reach folks who will add value to our island world; he peppered all our conversations with reminders of the subtle adjustments to language and simple nuance which will help us move from the still strained and sensitive relationships of the peace process to the more easy comfort we will need for the prosperity process.

Whatever you can imagine and visualise, it can happen; I’ve shared their vision – and an Ireland of excellence is within our reach.  Start grasping.

To lend a hand or add your voice to embolden our leadership in this prosperity process, contact me eve@eveearley.com, comment here – or join www.RendezVous353.com for links to some of these folks and their efforts!

Father Browne at Home is available from the author; contact me for further information.




Community…On Remembrance, Poppies & Homelands

November. Conscious of and indebted to the efforts of veterans worldwide – I remember. An American expat living in Ireland, in matters of politics I have pacifist leanings. I am, however, untroubled by my passion for honouring the military and sacrifices made on my behalf. Generations of sacrifices.

American veterans, British veterans, Canadian, German, Italian, Japanese, Israeli and Arab veterans, I make no distinction. Every one was called upon by his or her motherland to serve.

Service. Few of those who served or died had a say in the arguments, feuds and passions that led to the conflicts. Some followed reprehensible orders, all faced circumstances I have not. I, therefore, respect their service, even when not in service to my ideals.

On the eleventh day of the eleventh month at the eleventh hour every year, I am proud to say that I have thought of, prayed and cried for the sacrifices of all veterans. Perhaps due to my age or the fact that I am an American of Irish and Italian descent who is Jewish, my mind goes first to the soldiers who liberated the concentration camps. Beyond the dangers they faced in their war efforts until that day – most took to their graves the horror of what they witnessed, and only in its aftermath.

My uncle was an Italian soldier who spent most of WWII in a Russian POW camp. Was his sacrifice less noble or costly because the leadership of his homeland chose the “other” side? I have a dear friend, an Israeli veteran whose service in the Lebanon war haunts him to this day. You get my point. Veteran’s day is complicated.

I never thought that before, it was driven home by an effort to obtain a small red poppy for a British expat friend in the states. I live in Carlingford, on the border with Northern Ireland, the UK.  I assumed that in my travels I would be able to make a donation and pick up this token of remembrance known all over the British Isles.

Not so. “Ah sure, but you wouldn’t want to be trying to find that.”  “No lass, we wouldn’t be wearing that around here.” “You’re brave to be asking for one of those.”

I have learned to challenge that response. 50,000 Irish soldiers died in WWI and many now serve with UN peacekeepers. I am sorry for the legacy of the British occupation. I try to be sensitive to both sides.

That said I am outraged by the intolerance and disrespect of the young men and women who serve their homelands, anywhere. Especially here.

August (2009) marked the 30th anniversary of the massacre of 18 British soldiers in Northern Ireland. I can see it from my home. There is now an uneasy peace in that conflict. Those 18 mothers and their sons deserved to have their memories honoured. We in the Republic were largely silent.

We should not celebrate the wars – victory or defeat – but we must celebrate the gift of the young lives they and their families have given. Their gift is literally our present.

I have a US homeland, the gift of brave grandparents who emigrated. Ireland is now home. My Irish forbearers were driven out by the policies of the British. Can I hold that against a British soldier? The Irish government generously regards this grandchild still a citizen, their soldiers serve bravely with UN peacekeeping troops worldwide. Can I blame an Irish soldier for the Republic’s neutrality in the face of genocide? The genocide that left my Jewish children deprived of extended families that exist no longer? Here as a Jew I am pilloried as an extension of the Israeli occupation. I have no connection to Israel, should I disdain the service of her young?

Jews trapped in European homelands 70 years ago were citizens of countries and dependent upon the protection of soldiers in whose armies many served. Later they were grateful to soldiers of other homelands who liberated them.

Whose soldiers and what sacrifices would you have me forget?




Community Building, Wisdom & Cabbages…

In organising BizCamps, support and networking groups and now Carlingford Forum, the mission has been to create a safe space and to start a conversation that gets us thinking about ourselves and our communities in a new light.

Think of this place as a fertile field. Our children are the seeds. Their yield will sustain our communities for another generation. Will they grow in seasons of dearth or abundance? Will we move on, leaving overplanted fields stripped of nutrients? Or we will dig in, hoe, clear the rocks, enrich and prepare a better field to ensure the future.

We can clear the plots defined by our acres and that is good. How much better would it be if we collectively prepared our own and helped our neighbours? Village wide, county wide, country wide and island-wide.

My grandmother was a simple woman. She shared her wisdom with “old sayings” that come to me often. Her response s were predictable.

  • to my pained experience of mastering the sewing machine or kitchen gadget: “it’s a poor workman who blames his tools”;
  • on my frequent whinges about my lot in life: “offer it up”;
  • on any matter of importance: “two heads are better than one, even if one is a cabbage”.

The last was confounding. Was my opinion as valuable as veg?

Creative problem solving can’t happen in a vacuum. That was and is the most important lesson she offered.  It is what I seek to offer via this blog.  “Who does she think she is?” is the message I often hear when I raise issues. And the answer is: “No one and everyone”.

Once uttered, thoughts, threats, fears – all lose their power.  No more nighttime monsters under the bed. When we give voice to an issue, we throw open the windows and let in the light. The situation may remain scary – but we are no longer alone in the dark to imagine the demon, or to slay the dragon with limited weapons at hand. We’ve called in reinforcements. Reinforcements with a fresh perspective. They may be unarmed ones or ones who clear the debris obscuring the escape, the ones who resupply, or the ones who rework the strategy.

Perhaps, even a peacemaker who will whisper our demons to sleep.

So lest I be misunderstood, I am merely an observer and a facilitator. At best I seek to point out that we are undermining our collective potential. At worst, think of me as a mild annoyance. Often, it is my ignorance that is displayed – and your feedback serves to educate me.

The agricultural metaphor is not born of poetry but experience.

A client – twenty years ago, was delighted that we’d produced a resume she’d struggled over for months. She smiled when I abbreviated my grandmother’s thought – “two heads are better than one”.

“Even if one is a cabbage.” She startled me, I’d never heard that part elsewhere.

“Did it make you feel as dumb as a vegetable?” I asked. “No” she said – pooh-poohing that sentiment.

Her grandmother always generously finished the thought with, “because if all else fails, you can eat the cabbage”.

Food for thought. Wise women.