 The Thursday Thesis - 23/4/2020
Warren Buffett – the World’s greatest investor – has a very simple way of sorting out the wheat from the chaff in his life. It obviously works, because he’s grown his company, Berkshire Hathaway, from nothing to billions, so we might be wise to take a tip or two from him. And that’s the thing – most people take advice from their peers. Big mistake. Huge. Why is it a mistake? Because your peers are more or less your equal, and are often less informed than you are. They are also navigating from their own map, applying their own prejudices and biases to your situation – making judgements based upon their values and principles. A far better plan is to get your tips from people who are doing better than you in the area of life you are concerned with. So – if you want to be financially successful – don’t take the advice of poor people. If you want to get into great shape – don’t take diet and exercise advice from fat people. Got it? Good. So, what did Warren do to keep his mind ON what he wanted and OFF what he doesn’t want? He made just two lists. List One is the DO list – the half-dozen most important things in his life. Half a dozen, max. List Two is everything else – the plethora of things that he absolutely didn’t want to do. He lives by List One. How simple is that? I wish someone had told me this when I was a spotty, long-haired kid. D’oh! © Neil Cowmeadow 2020 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]
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Episode 198 - The Other Operation Paperclip The Thursday Thesis - 9/4/2020 Here’s another little idea I use to help me manage myself and keep a lid on my own stupidity – Operation Paperclip. Now, it’s got nothing at all to do with the real Operation Paperclip: America’s offering safe haven and jobs in government agencies to Nazi scientists at the end of World War. My Version of Operation Paperclip just helps me to manage my coffee consumption and my Wing Chun martial arts drills. Here’s how it works: I have a cup and saucer next to the coffee machine. I place a number of black paperclips in the saucer, equivalent to the number of double espressos I’m allowing myself to drink every day. For each cup of coffee I have, I move a paperclip from the saucer to the empty cup, and – as the beans are ground and the machine whirrs – I perform my Wing Chun drill of the day. If I’m drinking milk I’ll remove a black paperclip from the saucer and add a single white paperclip to take its place – representing my one latte for the day. When all of the ‘clips have moved into the cup, I’ve reached my limit for the day. Simple. To reduce my initial, ludicrous, cup-count, I just reduced the number of ‘clips in the saucer by one a week for ten weeks. The result was a gradual, manageable moderation of my caffeine addiction – without the headaches or cravings which accompany going “cold turkey”. That’s how I got down from fifteen(!) double espressos a day to just five– that’s still a lot, but it’s less crazy than getting wired on thirty shots of seriously strong coffee. You can use this simple idea to ease into or out of any repetitive action or habit – try it for yourself and see how it works for you. © Neil Cowmeadow 2020 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected] The Thursday Thesis - 19/3/2020
Today I’d like to share a simple idea that I use to control my dismal dietary choices and save time: my shopping list for people with no will power. It was born out of frustration and a desire to make life easy for myself by substituting a system for my feeble will-power, and when I use it, it works. When I don’t use it I’m a danger to myself, casually poisoning myself with the grain and dairy products which appear to fall magically into my supermarket trolley without me really noticing. Way back in the 90’s my gym coach, Richard, told me “You can eat any food you like – here ia the list of all the foods you are going to like”. And he did, handing me a couple of pages of A4 listing and rating all the foods which he thought would be good for a skinny, failed cycle racer (me) to eat whilst I trained and tried to build a little muscle. It was a pretty comprehensive list, and the deal was simple: I could have anything on the list. Naturally, I failed to stick to the list. Richard laughed at my excuses and repeatedly urged me to clean up my diet and stick to the list. I tried, it worked a bit, so I eased up... again and again. Round and round I went, getting nowhere fast. I really tried, but I began to lose heart as supermarket trips became a slow crawl as I mentally checked what I fancied against what I remembered of Rich’s list, second-guessing myself and generally being hopeless. Gradually it dawned upon me to create my own list, but not a comprehensive fancy-pants list like Richard’s – I needed something simple, fast, and Neil-proof. Next trip to Tesco I wrote down the order of the sections of my usual store, vegetables and fruit, meat, dairy, tinned good etc. I figured there was no point having an out-of-order list so I might as well map out the battleground. Battleground? Yep. According to Richard, the battle would be fought in the supermarket aisles, and my shopping choices would be vitally important. So, with my Tesco store mapped-out in my mind, I made a spreadsheet with matching sections in the same order as my local store. Below each section I listed that section’s top items, added a tick-box in which to mark the items I wanted, and that was that. The list was printed and always to hand in the kitchen, making it easy to tick what I needed when I ran low on any item. Brilliant – not even I could screw it up, and good food choices seemed just a tick-box away: all I had to do was to use it, and never buy anything that wasn’t on my list. The good news is that it works – the bad news is that I didn’t always use it. So I’m giving you the template for the best shopping list in the world, so that you can modify it and make it work for you. If you use it, it works. And if – like me – you use it some of the time, you’ll get some benefit from it. As for me, I’ve had my last cheese sandwich, and - at least for the foreseeable future - I’ll be living off my list and only off my list. Probably. © Neil Cowmeadow 2020 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis - 13/2/2020 It was Monday, and the storm ebbed away after throwing her tantrum all weekend long, leaving a few gusts of rage hanging around like someone who knows they have lost the argument saying “and another thing...” Outside, the blown-down trees were being cleared away, torn fences mended and ripped roofs patched up as the rain finally stopped and the wind piped-down. Somewhere a tree has torn down the electricity lines to my little town, so I’m camped out in Costa coffee whilst the leccy company try to restore power, and I’m having a good time scribbling away at an idea I’m working on. As usual I’m making a lovely inky mess as my fountain pen loops and scurries its way across the yellow pad I always carry with me, leaving a trail of deep magenta ink behind it, and I’m away with the fairies for a little while as my latte goes cold. Suddenly there’s a voice, saying quietly “I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you, but it’s just so nice to see someone writing with a real pen for a change”. I look up to see a smiling, pretty woman whom I quickly thank before she wishes me a good day and trundles off. The whole thing lasts maybe twenty seconds or so, and I take a sip of my lukewarm latte as I mull over the brief exchange and survey the other punters. Half a dozen of them are tapping away on laptops and tablet devices, the rest are phone-bothering. I’m the only person using a pen and paper: a singular luddite. Gadgets have their place as a necessary evil of the modern world, but there are times when only a real pen will cut it: for real writing and the sheer joy of stringing ideas together, nothing beats a pen. A proper pen. A proper ink-pen with creamy silken paper and ink the colour of dragon’s blood. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I suspect it’s an act of rebellion against my schooling, against having my natural left-handedness knocked out of me and being made use my right hand because “left-handed people are the devil’s work...” Bizarre, but true. And it feels like I’m poking a finger in the eye of convention, raging against the crappy regulation biros with which I scratched away my school days. And it takes me as far away as I can imagine from dusty classrooms and writing “lines”, the misery of detention , or the humiliation of the remedial handwriting classes which did bugger-all good and only left me feeling like an imbecile. I now know that there wasn’t anything wrong with me: I’d just been told to do daft things with a pen which made it nigh-on impossible to do what I was told. And many years later I came to recognise the stupidity of compelling a child to use their less able hand to write with, and to question the logic underpinning that decision. Later still came the secret love of writing, the shape of words, and the appreciation of how beautiful the solitary act of writing could be... My fountain pen is truly one of my treasures. Made from lava erupted from Mount Etna, heavy in my hand, yet poised and balanced; it sighs as it caresses the creamy page like a lover’s skin, kept safe between the hard covers of my old-fashioned notebook. If only I’d been taught that the process of writing could be innately pleasurable: like a beautiful dance, from the first contemplation of the virgin beauty of the empty page and the first kiss of inky colour. The hand simply moves, and thoughts coalesce into droplets of dragon-blood condensed from the mind, now given the freedom to flow – unimpeded by touchscreen or keyboard Ink on paper is permanent and immediate, it doesn’t crash, and handwriting is rarely corrupted and seldom deleted by accident. A notebook remains present and instantly accessible, unlike the oubliette of a hard drive where files are saved and never seen again. Few things are as cool as flipping open an old notebook and discovering something which one has written and then forgotten all about. There are practical reasons for writing longhand, too: research indicates that we think differently when writing – there’s a sort of reprocessing of ideas which improves cognition and retention. Most of all, writing with a real pen is simply a pleasure, unseen by the disapproving spelling and grammar checkers. Set free the vagabond pen to roam and twist, spiral and swirl across, or up and down – the page. And perhaps it is this - the freedom of real writing - that compels us most. As the hollow promises and hype of digital technology are exposed, and that which was supposed to set us free enslaves us, there is a growing resistance movement and a resurgence of real writing – a sort of analogue underground – and I for one am proud to wear the inkstains of the writer on my fingers. © Neil Cowmeadow 2020 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis - 23/1/2020 Well, here we are – three weeks into a new year and what’s changed? For most people, nothing has changed. Just a few weeks down the line from making definite, potentially life changing promises to ourselves, most of us are already right back where we started – or we soon will be. Our New Year’s Resolutions are beginning to fall apart, with around an 80% failure rate, according to Inc Magazine. So the majority of people make definite decisions to take action and change their lives for the better, but 8 out of 10 of them will fail... Once again, it seems that doing what most people do is not a good idea. If we are prepared to observe the masses and do the opposite, there’s a chance that the 80% failure rate could become a thing of the past. It’s not that New Year’s Resolutions are bad, in themselves – who could argue that taking better care of one’s health, finances or relationships is a bad thing? No, the problem isn’t the Resolution, it’s the implementation. Here’s what doesn’t work, most of the time: we make a decision and try to stick to it. If we diverge from our decision in any way, even just once, we throw out the whole thing and beat ourselves up for having no willpower, backbone or self-discipline. We have failed, and it is over. Sometimes this leaves us feeling even worse than we did before we made that decision, and that can have profound ramifications. But what if we were wrong about that failure – how would that be? Let’s suppose your New Year’s Resolution was to give up booze, but last Friday you had a couple of drinks with friends. You didn’t want to break your resolution, but your friends were so persuasive and bought your drinks for you. When you woke up on Saturday you felt disappointed – you’d let yourself down and everybody knew you’d broken your resolution. Now you feel like crap and begin to tell yourself that there’s no point even trying again, because everybody knows that New Year’s Resolutions always fail... Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? But what if we chose to think of that catastrophic and final failure to stay clean – that unwanted behaviour - as something other than the end of our resolution: suppose it was really a successful test? What you really found was a successful test of a behaviour that you didn’t want. That test was necessary to make sure that you didn’t want to do it, wasn’t it? If that were true, you could eliminate it from your list of potential actions and resume your ongoing tests of behaviour that will support your long-term aims, in this case you New Year’s Resolution. The core of the problem is that we over-respond to a single, momentary failure and let it define us. If we had decided to stop drinking alcohol and “go on the wagon” at New Year, but had fallen off the wagon last weekend, the sharpest thing to do is to get back on the wagon right away. An intelligent person would ask themself what happened and what they could do differently in order to stay on the wagon, rather than curse themself and throw themselves back under the wheels. The intelligent person reminds themself that it was just a test, and then asks themself “so, what might work better?” because they know that is a thousand mile journey, but it is lived in inches. The intelligent person recognises the inch of lost ground when they fail, then strides out to regain that inch and then some. So, if your own New Year’s Resolution – or any other decision – has been broken, today is another inch of your thousand mile journey: another chance to test what works and what doesn’t work, another chance to become who and what you want to be. Keep Testing. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis - 28/11/2019
In the cult TV show Star Trek, Spock - the half-human, half-Vulcan Science officer – coined the phrase “Live long and prosper” as a greeting to fellow Vulcans, accompanying it with a hand gesture dividing his fingers into two pairs with the thumb extended. To me, it’s a great salutation – far better than “Good morning” or the ubiquitous “Hi”. Live Long and Prosper is an affirmation of life and all its potentials: therefore it is deeply cool in my book. But there’s something missing, in my opinion. Living Long and Prospering is all well and good, but how should we die? Personally I’m a fan of being astonishingly active and rudely healthy, deep in to old age – enjoying perfect health right up until the moment when I drop Dead. I want to arrive at my own graveside absolutely spent: exhausted, gulping my last breath as I skid my motorcycle sideways to a halt, tipping me effortlessly into the pit as the lady who I was having sex with dismounts gracefully and pirouettes away, just seconds after our final, tumultuously synchronised orgasms. And as I look up at the sky from six-feet below the grass I smile, murmuring “What a ride – now I’m going to have a lie-in” as the vicar and the gravediggers start shovelling the dirt in – clearly terrorised by the thought that I might change my mind and spring back out of the hole before bounding off in pursuit of more fun and misadventure. Sounds good to me; that was probably how life ended for a good many of our prehistoric forebears – long-term diseases were rare and (if you made it past infancy) life expectancy seems to have been pretty good. Archaeologists tell us that heart disease was virtually unknown and cancer was rare in ancient times – ancient humans seem to have been on the go right up to the end of their lives. The medical establishment tells us that cancer and heart disease are difficult to treat without spending vast amounts of money on drugs: funny how Johnny Caveman had no problem with the modern killer diseases, isn’t it? As we grow older we are expected to sicken, weaken and decline before we die – but aren’t we buying into a dodgy model here? When we accept that growing older must mean a loss of powers, declining strength and virility we accept the notion that we are victims of an irresistible force set out against us: we begin to adopt the habits, movements and lifestyle we have been told is appropriate for us and acceptable to society. So life is good for a short time, just until we reach the tipping point where we cease to consider ourselves young and unlimited, transitioning into passive riders on the long, slow downhill path to a medicated dotage and ultimate release... It doesn’t have to be this way. There is a mountain of research demonstrating that most of today’s major diseases are caused by the dismal diet (built on false premises and the suspect recommendations of Governments) we are peddled by big Corporations, compounded by our lack of movement. What the research suggests is that changing one’s diet and walking around could just about transform your life and the lives of entire nations. But you probably won’t hear about all that research, because it’s been kept out of the mainstream media by people with too much to lose if we ever find out the truth about the Western Pattern Diet (also known as the Standard American Diet – poetically abbreviated to SAD) and how its ideas poisoned the World. Since much of the Western World began to adopt the SAD and looked to the nutritional guidelines of the US’s Food Pyramid (low fat, high carbohydrates, low salt etc) diseases and chronic illness have mushroomed. In countries all over the World obesity and type 2 diabetes (formerly called Adult-Onset Diabetes) have tracked politely behind the introduction of SAD. It’s not a coincidence – it’s causation, not correlation. In every Country where the SAD has gained a hold, the story is the same: rising levels of disease and obesity, with long-term sickness occurring earlier in life, necessitating vast spending on medication to manage the problems caused by the SAD. And as UK’s the population ages, more and more of us will become sick, medicated, and helpless; reliant on drugs and healthcare to manage our symptoms – just like America - and every other country infected by the SAD. We owe it to ourselves to be vigilant and to be difficult: to question the advice given to us about our food by the food industry, about our healthcare by the people who sell us drugs, and by a society whose “average” citizen is fat, sick and medicated. That’s not how I’m planning to live out the next fifty or so years: I’m going to Live Long and Drop Dead - how about you? © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  Episode 178 - White Belt Mind
The Thursday Thesis - 21/11/2019 It is said that when one begins the journey into Buddhism the hardest thing to do is to clear one’s mind: to achieve Shoshin – the so-called Beginner’s Mind. Shoshin is an empty mind; no preconceptions and open to anything when studying a subject. And it is a mind without place-markers for meaning or a frame of reference the initiate can easily feel lost and disoriented. In meditation we should try to simply be: to quiet the seemingly incessant chatter of our “Monkey Mind” which is our usual waking state – unsettled, restless, capricious, whimsical, fanciful and inconstant; confused, indecisive and almost completely uncontrollable. Monkey Mind's thoughts rise up inside us, capture and fixate our attention, then fade into darkness like fireworks in the night. The aim is to simply empty one’s mind and notice what comes and goes, without reacting or judging, usually by paying attention to one’s breath and the flow of air into and out of the body; to observe our Monkey Mind thoughts rise, subside and fade, only to be replaced by more thoughts, which – in turn – also pass and are replaced, endlessly and continuously. All that Monkey Mind sounds pretty tiring to me. In Beginner’s Mind we accept that we know nothing – because we are beginners (the clue is in the name). When newcomers to the guitar come for their first lesson the biggest problem is that they already know that learning to play guitar will be difficult, that they have no talent, no rhythm, that there are no musicians in their family, etc, etc, etc. Their Monkey Mind has been yapping away for years – often decades – based on knowing bugger-all about playing guitar! Yep, based on no knowledge of the instrument they (we, really – because I used to “know” how hard it was to play guitar, too) have convinced themselves of a whole bunch of unhelpful things, so the very first (and most important) thing in the lesson will be the systematic elimination of those beliefs – to engender their Beginner’s Mind and to clear away their unfounded certainty. Subduing Monkey Mind takes time and... And what? Not effort, but attention. Once you become aware of Monkey Mind and simply notice its prattle, you can let it talk and talk – allow it to rage and rail, worry and fret – notice that thoughts rise and subside, endlessly forming and drifting away. You come to realise that most of it is just nonsense and, over time, become less attached to your thoughts and reactions: the mind clears and empties itself. We can come to understand that we know nothing and in so doing begin to learn the first lesson. The lesson is that it’s not what you don’t know that hurts you, it’s what you know damned well and that isn’t true that hurts you. Your Monkey Mind dances with untruth, worry and your own fears turned back in on yourself, and by stilling that Monkey chatter you can open up your mind to learning. The first step to learning to play the guitar - or anything else for that matter - is to clear away the untrue, the second is to acquire the true. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis - 03/10/2019
As a spotty teenage guitar wannabe, all I knew about feedback was that it was a hideous, high-pitched scream emanating from my Marshall amplifier when I had the volume cranked and I was too close to the speakers. These days, my amps are smaller, my guitar playing slightly less bad, and electronic feedback much less common. But feedback is the bread-and-butter of daily life – it’s how our bodies respond to our environment without us even thinking about it, and how we decide upon which behaviours to adopt, continue or abandon. In fact, feedback is the core of human behaviour: look at any behaviour pattern and feedback will be present, one way or another. From our eating habits to our exercise patterns, sexual proclivities and spending habits (no connection between these last two), everything comes down to feedback. So what is feedback, how does it work, and how can we hijack ourselves to get more of what we what and less of what we don’t? In a nutshell, feedback is the tendency of a system - in this case, us – to respond to received information (sensations or feelings) in a consistent way in order to produce more or less of the incoming sensations. If we are receiving information we find pleasurable or positive – say, a delicious taste, sexual excitement, rewards or peer esteem – we will continue to perform the activity which produces those desirable sensations. This is known as Positive Feedback. And if the sensations being received are unpleasant or negative – for example, food we don’t like, pain, punishment or exclusion from our peer group – we will modify our behaviour to reduce or eliminate the unpleasantness. Freud’s Pleasure Principle is a pretty good summary of how feedback works: “people to seek pleasure and avoid pain”. That’s really the nuts and bolts of feedback – it’s pretty simple. So how do we hack our own feedback loops to be happier, fitter, wealthier? Just two: words: pay attention. Notice what is working for you and do more of it. And notice what isn’t working for you, then do less of it. It’s simple, and it only takes a moment of detached consideration and honesty to ask yourself the simple question “Is what I am doing now producing the kinds of results which will make me more like the person I want to become?” If the answer is “Yes”, do more of it and improve it. If the answer is “No”, stop doing it as soon as you possibly can. Suppose you’re mouth is watering at the sight of a yummy fresh doughnut... Before you wade in with all teeth blazing – just ask yourself “Is eating that doughnut going to help make me the sort of fit, slim person I want to be?” And be honest with yourself. If you're wrestling your guitar and getting nowhere, pause and ask yourself "is what I'm doing now helping or hurting my development and enjoyment on the guitar?" "Success leaves clues", as they say - and so does failure... If you spend your life doing things consistent with the actions of the person you’d most like to meet, you must – inevitably – become that person. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  Episode 168 - The Art of Looking Sideways
The Thursday Thesis - 12/9/2019 I can’t remember when I first heard the phrase “a sideways look”, but I do remember that it was in a story of a wise woman facing down a villager who accused her of witchcraft. In the story that Sideways Look was all suspicion and contempt as the wise woman cowed her accuser. And it’s such a funny idea, looking sideways, that it stuck with me. Tumbled by time and stained by my ribald life it’s acquired a new meaning for me, no longer is it haughty contempt – not in my sense of the phrase, anyway. No, for me it’s become a look of deep curiosity, this sideways look. Maybe it’s like the look of romantic interest, sudden curiosity and potential passion, and maybe it is charged with suspicion; but whatever it is, you know a sideways look when you get one. Time freezes briefly when someone looks at you that way. We feel our souls are being scrutinised by a sideways look, our very essence assayed and examined. And it all happens in an instant. That Sideways Look takes nothing at Face Value, it asks questions and weighs things up. When you Look Sideways you don’t just begin to think about what was said – you begin to factor-in who said it, how they said it, the context in which it was said, and what they did not say. Whatever the delivery media - Speech, book, video, commercial, print ad, radio or TV show - you begin to probe the speaker’s motives, their choice of words, their body language and posture, vocal nuances and rate of speech. Looking Sideways isn’t just about face-to-face encounters with real people, and it definitely applies to advertising, marketing, mainstream media, social media, music and the Arts A sideways look is really critical thinking, looking beyond and around, as well as into and through, the surface of events, messages, conversations. It squints at what is being shown, listens intently for what is said, hears the creaking of distortion and the sly whisper of Spin – moreover, it reaches into the dark silences of what is being left out. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  On the boards at Manchester Velodrome: terrifying, exhilarating...just before crashing. The Thursday Thesis - 05/09/2019 Comfort will drain your life of all meaning. Comfort will make you irrelevant. Comfort is your sworn enemy. Comfort will kill you, Stone dead. I was talking to a lady a couple of days ago - you know, all about life and stuff. She’d had a successful career and was looking forward to a “comfortable retirement” in a few years. That seems such an old-fashioned image: drifting off into a quiet life of pottering around, fading by degrees into invisibility, a thirty-year waiting room before the last, long, lie-in. There’s something deeply offensive about the word “comfortable”, at least to me. There’s a suggestion of irrelevance, of ineffectuality about it. Humans are built to strive, learn and grow – it’s what really makes us tick. If life is comfortable we are likely to become unhappy as we lack obstacles to overcome, challenges to meet, dreams to capture and dragons to slay. There seems something disturbing about being comfortable – a curious sense of drifting and lack of purpose. It’s probably just me, projecting my own hang-ups onto the word. But I would hate to be comfortable. In fact, I shudder when I imagine having no reason to get out of bed. Reason tells me that if I’m not busy growing I’m probably shrinking, because only making a demand on our bodies will stimulate growth and repair. Without stress, without challenge, we may not even maintain our status quo. I’m not ready to shuffle off into someone else’s dream of a comfortable retirement – are you? That’s an old dream, peddled by people who were sold it themselves, only to find it hollow when they got there. Get uncomfortable. Do something that takes you outside of your comfort zone. Push your boundaries, because they are shrinking in on you every single day, whether you like it or not. If you don’t push back, you’ll shrink and fade away. Keep pushing back. Get busy doing that thing you’ve always wanted to do – you know which one I mean, don’t you? It’s the thing that scares the living crap out of you: maybe it’s learning to play guitar, run a marathon, start a business, leave your job. You know I’m talking to you, in particular, don’t you? The time is now. This is your moment. This is your life ticking away. Only you are standing in your way, because The Universe is too big, cold and indifferent to care about you, one way or the other. In fact, The Universe really doesn’t give a fuck about you, so get over it and get uncomfortable doing that scary big thing. Get out of your own way and do it. Don’t get comfortable. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Remember to Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and anyone else. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  Episode 166 - Observe The Masses...
The Thursday Thesis - 29/8/2019 Within the world of business, finance and investing, Warren Buffet is pretty much a legend in his own lifetime. Now in his 80’s the Chairman of the Berkshire Hathaway investment fund is still playing The Game he loves most – the Game of Money. You might ask “Why would he want to keep on working at his age?” Because it is his game – his fascination and his calling. He certainly isn’t in it for the money itself: with a personal net worth of around 80 Billion dollars it would be hard to make much of a dent in his fortune. In fact, that amount of money invested at just 3% would earn him an eye-popping 2.4 Billion dollars a year, pre tax. He's a lone wolf - happy to pursue his own passions and interests when it flies in the face of popular opinion. Buffet is, by nature, a contrarian - believing that he should try be brave when everyone else is fearful, and when everyone else is brave – he should be fearful. Part of his philosophy is, in essence, Observe The Masses – Do the Contrary. There’s a curious logic to the way he thinks: reasoning that there are fewer successful investors than unsuccessful investors, those in the minority have the best odds of success. Observe the masses... It works across all areas of life – even learning to play guitar – where the most common approach is to “teach yourself” what you don’t know how to do, and only a minority book themselves in with a teacher to accelerate their progress. That’s why most wannabe guitarists quit or are frustrated and stuck. Observe the masses... Work surveys constantly report that around 70% of people hate their jobs, approximately 25% are indifferent and only around 5% of people actually get paid for doing work they really enjoy. Observe the masses, do the contrary. When everyone around you is moaning about the economy, Brexit, the state of the country, or how crap the local football team is doing this year, feel free to run the other way. Consciously choose to be positive instead – don’t get caught up in a game of one-downsmanship with people who are more negative than you are. You know the game, don’t you? It’s the one where – no matter how big their problem is, yours is so much worse. When the usual crowd are milling around - moaning and bitching about the crap on TV last night, the price of a pint or that trollop from accounts and her new shoes – run. Just get yourself away from their tractor beams before you are sucked into their negative vortex and begin to compete for the “My Life is Crappier Than Yours” prize. There’s a lot of competition for that award, but even if you won it, you’d still be a loser. Given the choice between what most people do and what the minority do - day in, day out – do you want to run with the pack or howl with the lone wolves? Be more wolf: Observe the masses, do the contrary. Harrrroooouul!! © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis -22/8/2019
Precise. Specific. They are two words I adore. They’re solid words, and there’s something very reliable and dependable about them: they stand for accuracy and certainty, a gimlet-eyed no-nonsense attention to detail and a straight-backed “X marks the spot” rigour that borders on being finicky. I love the words, but recoil from their rigidity. Nobody could argue against Precision and specificity in the study of absolute measurements: mathematics, logic and the like. But they’re words which don’t play nicely. Their strictness excludes them from the creative act, because they lack the sense of fun which is the hallmark of invention, creativity, the arts and true insight. They are also the sworn enemies of learning. So, how do we learn best? It turns out that learning can be learned and accelerated - just like any other skill. The trick is to begin with what I call Useful Generalisations: the core ideas which are true for the great majority of cases, the great majority of the time. In other words, find out what works most of the time, and which – logically – has the highest probability of being correct, most of the time. With the most common and therefore most useful concepts secured, we can shift our attention to the next most likely occurrences: the most common exceptions to the Useful Generalisations. By noting their deviations from the Useful Generalisations we can develop a set of rules – an algorithm – we can now handle the great majority of situations and occurrences. This learning pathway always delivers the most “Bang for the Buck” for us, because it always attends to the highest-returning investment of our time first, and prevents us from becoming lost in the fine detail of the seldom-encountered, the rare, and the unusual. So to begin learning anything always try to find experts - teachers, coaches and mentors to show you the most important ideas first. With hindsight, trying to teach myself something I didn’t know how to do was not a wise approach, and it cost me too much time. Yet I tried it, and the chances are that you have done so, too. The Broad Sweeps, the Big Ideas and the Useful Generalisations must come before the unlikely, the Rare, the Precise and the Specific, because (to quote Goethe) “...the things which matter most must never be at the mercy of the things which matter least...” © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected] The Thursday Thesis - 4/7/2019
Unless you - like me - are a geek, chances are that you’ve never heard of Warren Buffet, the American investor, businessman and philanthropist. Now, Warren is an interesting guy – maybe even a genius – content to conquer the world of investing from Omaha, Nebraska rather than a glass tower on Wall Street. In fact, Warren thinks differently about almost everything; “observe the masses, do the contrary” could almost be his mantra. Here are a few key points about “The Sage of Omaha”
Apart from his philosophy of thinking long-term and being frugal, Warren has a pretty cool trick up his sleeve when it comes to managing his time – here’s an overview of the process: First he makes a list of his top 25 goals. From that list he identifies the top 5 goals. His top 5 goals go on his List One: The Vital Few things which will make all the difference. The other 20 goals go onto his List Two: the Avoid-At-All-Costs List. I think that’s brilliantly simple – and I’m whittling away at the unnecessary things in my own life in order to focus on the “Vital Few” things which will be of greatest value to me and the people I love. It’s a very clear system, but it requires discipline and focus to stick to it, because it’s hard to let go of things we love – even when they don’t serve us – and it’s hard to resist the temptation of short-term pleasure in order to achieve a long-term goal. But above all else, Buffett’s system demands we understand what is important to us. So, put the kettle on and brew yourself a nice cup of tea, then sit quietly and mull over the questions: What would be on your Vital Few list? What would you have to disregard in order to have only 5 things on your own Vital Few list? Your answers could change your life. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis - 27/6/2019
Is classical Time Management missing the point?  "This is the voice of your father..." Lord Dark Helmet The Thursday Thesis - 20/6/2019
I have a voice in my head. You have a voice in your head, too. If you think you don’t, whose voice was it that just said “no I haven’t”? We all have voices in our heads – not the schizophrenic’s auditory hallucination kind of voices – but the voices that haunt us and screw us up. They’ve been around for so long that we usually accept them as permanent and just another part of us: they’re part of our identity, even though they are usually just repeating echoes of long-ago, distorted, corrupted and twisted by time. Mine is the schoolteacher who told me that I’d never amount to anything, and the protective parental voices counselling me to not take risks and to find a nice, safe job. They lurk just below the level of my ear, slightly behind my right shoulder – the same place they’ve always been. What’s yours like? Maybe – like me – you’re still hearing the words of someone with authority and upon whom you depended for approval or love, all rolled together into the voice of your Inner Critic And maybe you’ve been listening to them talk crap about you, too - maybe for decades - just like my own inner voices have been talking trash about me and giving me their ten cents’ worth for decades, making me play it safe and doubt myself. Well, they used to do that... You see, a little while back, I got lucky. James, one of my mentors, showed me how to turn my own inner critic (a.k.a. my “Inner Bastard”) into my new Best Friend Forever. As he guided me through the process, he asked “...the voice in your head is always in the same location when it speaks to you, isn’t it?” “Uh-huh...” I agreed. He pressed on “...And it always has the same characteristics of tone, volume, cadence – and it usually says the same old words it has been using since...well since forever, doesn’t it?” I think I nodded. “It’s giving you the same message – like a tired old telephone answering machine that’s played the same worn-out tape for decades...” He said. “Now we’re going to change the tape, but the voice will remain exactly the same: the same position, the same intonation, volume and cadence, but now it’s going to speak different words. It’s like we’re going to change the tape in the machine: use the voice – change the tap... use the voice – change the tape... use the voice – change the tape.” I moved my hands through the actions of removing the imaginary cassette tape from the imaginary machine and inserting a brand-new, shiny imaginary cassette...then pressing “PLAY”... Now my old schoolteacher was telling me “Neil, you’re an oddball – a creative guy, very bright and full of fun, and I am absolutely certain that no matter what obstacles you face, you’ll find at least three possible solutions that are positive for everyone involved, and usually an opportunity that nobody else has spotted, too.” Thank you Mr Roberts! Why didn’t you say that forty bloody years ago? Then my dear old mom and dad chimed in – but what they said to me on the tape is private and sacred. The effect was immediate, and I was close to tears. James had me repeat the tape-changing process and tweak what the voices on the tape said until it was exactly right, then to leave the machine turned on and ready to play the tape for me at any time. This was some pretty weird stuff to take in, but I gotta tell you that it works: it works better than almost any self-talk intervention I’ve ever seen or read-up on. Some self-talk modifiers suggest that we should draw Mickey Mouse ears on the voices and give them helium to make them squeaky voices; others suggest moving the voices further away or moving the mental volume and tone controls. They also work, but not for everyone and not always quickly or permanently; I suspect that this is inconsistent because we have changed the attributes of the voice and it loses its authoritative qualities – that’s actually the whole point of the exercise. But here’s the thing: if you retain the attributes of the voice – instead of changing them - it retains its authority, credibility and power. Now, when the voice speaks to you, it still has all the gravity, power and credibility it has always had, but now it is saying positive things to you. What would you prefer your Inner Critic to say to you? Change the tape, and notice the difference... How cool is that? © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  Rowan Atkinson as Blackadder Episode 155 - The Wisdom of Baldrick The Thursday Thesis - 13/6/2019 Baldrick: Wait a moment, My Lord! I have a cunning plan that cannot fail! Blackadder “The Witchsmeller Pursuivant” Yep, even Blackadder’s sidekick – the downtrodden yet optimistic Baldrick – had a plan. And Baldrick’s plan was always very cunning – at least to Baldrick. And it’s a funny thing, but growing up in Wolverhampton in the sixties and seventies, nobody mentioned plans for our lives: certainly not at school, and not at home either. At no point did anyone suggest that having a plan for your life would be a good thing, or that aiming high was to be desired and admired. Though, come to think of it, I probably wouldn’t have listened to them if they had: I was always a stroppy little sod. As the seventies ended and the decade tipped over into the eighties the story was still the same: plans for your life were not talked about: they were not what you did. I do distinctly remember being told that if I were foolish or arrogant enough to dare to make a plan, I could expect Fate to thwart and frustrate me at every step. It seemed that Life Plans were for dreamers and delusional oddballs; the know-alls and nutjobs. And there was something comedic about these people with plans, too – as though they were dreaming a little too hard... Now I understand that if we don’t have a plan for how our lives should be, we’ll end up working for someone else who does have a plan for us and whose plans probably won’t be much to our benefit: I just wish I’d found that out forty years ago! You don’t have to look far to see people making plans – invariably the wrong plans. It’s commonplace to spend a very long time planning one’s wedding or annual holiday – but it’s much less common to really plan a life for oneself, based upon what might be a fun way to spend the next seventy or so years. Doesn’t that strike you as odd – or is it just me? If you have a plan, then there’s a chance of things going the way you want them to. Without a plan we are unlikely to end up with what we want. Like a beautiful ship without a map or compass, we can sail and drift for years – sometimes for a lifetime – even though the rudder is working and the sails are full of wind, but without a course to steer by, even the best ships wreck and run aground on unknown shores. In the military it’s often said that “no plan survives contact with the enemy” and it’s true. The armed forces are masters of planning, and the phrase “planned with military precision” has become synonymous with effective and efficient operations. Here’s the thing, though: the army knows that its plans will not survive contact with the enemy, but it still invests time and effort into making plans to ensure that the desired operational outcome is achieved with minimal losses – after all, what kind of army goes off to war with the idea that they’ll maybe go and “...wander around – probably in that country over there - and maybe do some fighting...”? It would be ridiculous for an army to act in that way, and it would be ridiculous for anyone to act in that way, too. For an army many lives may depend upon the operational plan: for us as individuals, we are entirely dependent on our plan, or – more often than not – no plan whatsoever. We march forth into each new day, becoming too focused in the day-to-day business of daily life to pause and look a little further down the road, survey hazards and scout for opportunities, and to make plans for their evasion or exploitation. Lost in the fast-paced busy-ness of everyday life, crisis of the moment and our immediate needs, we forget to plan what happens after today’s crisis has passed. So I think it’s a great idea to take time off, once a year, and get away from work for a day or three. Isolate yourself from anything that could distract you from figuring out how you’d like to spend the next ten, twenty or more years and deciding what your life might be after those years have passed. Write it all down and review your plan – in depth, every month; refer to your plan on Monday morning and notice how things are progressing or not progressing; then identify the short-term activities which will move you closer to your desired outcome. It’s not rocket science, but a plan is usually the thought-foundation upon which everything else is built. You see, making a plan is just like creating a blueprint for your life. There will be changes and amendments, re-thinks and re-drafts along the way, it will never be completely right, and it will never be perfect, because no plan ever is - but even a fairly good plan has a better chance of success than having no plan at all. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your chosen deity. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis – 2/5/2019
Humans are funny little creatures. This is not news, by the way – it’s a stone-cold fact. Give a human one thing and he’ll immediately want the opposite, give her what she said wanted and it will immediately change. Bit of a bugger isn’t it? And here’s the thing: everything is a continuum with us. Somewhere between extreme X and extreme Y we’ll settle...but not for long. The overwhelming impression is restlessness and a need for change, accompanied by an infuriating need for sameness and familiarity. When we experience too much sameness we say that we are bored, that everything is routine and life is dull. Give us too much change and we feel out of control and insecure, that we are stressed and scared. The minute we have too much of one or the other we react by trying to create more of what we were trying to get away from! Infuriating, but oh-so-human. And this change-versus-boredom pattern shows up in music, too. We like music to be sufficiently similar to everything else we’ve ever heard that it’s familiar and relatable; whilst at the same time needing it to be different enough to be interesting. You hear this all the time, when people say “Ooh, that reminds me of that old song by so-and-so...” or “All their songs sound the same...” There’s a reason for the similarity between songs: if a band or “artist” (pretentious terminology alert) suddenly switch genres or styles, their audience has a WTF moment and there’s uproar. Such reinvention is a risky strategy for a performer or a brand – having built an audience by being one thing, there’s a real danger of alienating that audience by suddenly becoming something else. Fans want their favourite acts to produce more of the same, but new versions of it. Every band or performer has their little quirk, their stylistic wrinkle on things; this is what their audience unconsciously identifies and resonates with. And every song has this continuum, too: verses establish the basic idea, but after a couple of verses we begin to want something new... that’s where the chorus comes in, to disrupt the pattern and change things...but now we begin to want more of the original verse idea, don’t we? Pretty soon, we’ll tire of the verse/chorus pattern, too – so that’s an opportunity for a guitar solo or a breakdown section, a “middle 8” that takes the music in a different direction. It’s fractal, as the same pattern emerges across all of life: sameness versus change. Do you recognise the pattern in your own life, just like I see it writ large in mine? Sameness keeps me comfortable, but too much of it and I’m bored rigid: massive change is scary and uncomfortable. Somewhere between the two extremes I find a tolerable compromise – and immediately begin to destabilise it. Infuriating, or what?! © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis – 4/4/2019
Nestled within every great religion is the idea “as within, so without”. Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it? What does it mean, as within, so without? At the deepest level, it means that we hold in our minds becomes reality for us: our dominant thoughts become our reality. Our brains are neck-top computers, running whatever software and programs have been loaded into them – whether that’s the malware and viruses of manipulative regimes or political parties, or the positive quest for a worthy goal. Our brains run the programs and are not fussy about the quality or direction of the processing: it’s neutral and blind. With the programs running, our brain sets off to create our reality – a reality which conforms to the thoughts and programs running in our neck-top computers. We begin to notice certain things are judged to be important to our thought processes: it’s called “confirmation bias”, and it means that we tend to reinforce what we expect to be there by searching it out within all of our experiences. This is why we resist change so stubbornly: we want to keep on doing what we are already doing and make the world conform to our prejudices. Beliefs are slow to change as our minds cling to whichever thoughts and programs we are already running. Massive and immediate change is possible, but it is rare. So rather than wait for a Damascene conversion, a more reliable change pathway is via the creation of a “mental blueprint” for yourself and your life. Taking time to create the blueprint, then regularly reviewing and reinforcing it, is what goal setting is all about – but how many people do you know who have a written plan for their lives? “Not many” is my guess. Our minds respond to mental images, and it doesn’t matter where those images come from; whether they are received from external sources or generated within the mind itself. Once the image is captured and added to the programming active within the mind, our minds get to work on making the image a reality. This is why I don’t own a TV... The mind can’t tell the difference between a real image and an image it has imagined with sufficient detail and clarity: differentiating the two is the job of our critical faculty, which tires easily and has only limited capacity. We all know that the two pillars of imagination are playfulness and curiosity: playfulness makes it all a game, and curiosity asks “what if?” and “what else?” and embracing them makes it easy for us – with practice – to create a vivid and compelling mental blueprint for ourselves – for what we want, who we wish to become, and what we will be remembered for: the blueprint for a life of intention and purpose. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  Alchemy Manual, 18th Century. Anonymously compiled. Science Museum, London The Thursday Thesis – 14/3/2019
According to the Bible story, God rewarded King Solomon for his sacrifice by granting the king a wish. Solomon was no mug and asked Big G for the gift of Wisdom, which God duly bestowed upon him. Wisdom has always been associated with older people – youngsters seldom have it – and It seems such an earnest quality that we should definitely try to get our hands on some. But what is Wisdom? I’d define it as a deep and wide understanding of a situation or a field of study: the depth comes from prolonged attention to one’s theme or idea, the breadth from wider interests both connected and seemingly unconnected to one’s field. To put it another way: paying attention to one thing for a long time, whilst remaining curious about everything else. So Wisdom isn’t the uber-geek’s obsession with the minutiae of their fixation: neither is it the superficial casual interest in whatever is flavour of the month. To the Wise Person, everything is germane and pertinent – everything counts - either within their field or setting it in context with all other things. This thought crystallised for me as I listened to an audiobook whilst driving. The author said that “A fool sees only the differences – the Wise Man sees the sameness”. Ping – message received! That was what I’d been niggling at as I tried to define Wisdom in my own mind: the Wise Man saw that everything was the same because he’d lived a long time and could observe patterns because he’d been paying attention all that time. Tribal Elders were revered for their wisdom, their treasure hoard of accumulated experience and condensed time. Deep insight into one’s speciality, coupled with an understanding of its context and place in the universe is Wisdom. As a teacher and coach, this is my stock-in-trade. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis – 7/3/2019
A wise man once told me that if I wasn’t happy with the answers I was getting, then I should learn to ask better questions. Back then I was groping blindly for a better understanding of the world, of people, and – most importantly – of myself. I wanted to know the answers to the questions I asked myself almost every morning, as I woke up and felt so sad that I had to live yesterday all over again; sometimes sobbing under the duvet until the very last minute and I had to go to work. How did I get here? Why do I do a job I loathe? Why can’t I make more money? You get the idea, don’t you? It’s very common for people to feel that way: I know, I’ve been there. So when Peter talked about “better questions” I started listening to people much more closely. I listened for clues from the people around me who were more successful and happy than I was. Just about everybody seemed happier and more successful than I was, so I heard a lot of good stuff. Over time I began to distil what I’d learned down into simple questions that I could use to help myself and other people. And as I continued to learn and absorb information from increasingly successful and influential people I tweaked, reworked and re-jigged my questions. And over time this has become a way of thinking and approaching the business of life, at least for me. So I’d like to share just three of my magic questions – perhaps you’d like to try one or two of them out for yourself: 1) “What’s good about this?” Just asking this question prompts me to think that – whatever the hell is going on – there will be a positive aspect to it. There is always a positive, but you might have to hunt around to find it. The very best way to start to hunt for anything is to define what it is you are looking for: until you know that, you can’t even begin. The old “needle in a haystack” you are looking for is even harder to find if you don’t even know you are looking for a needle: true or true? Asking myself to find the positive in a situation distracts me from magnifying the negative aspects of it, so I tend to remain optimistic in the face of adversity. This is why I wake up every morning (and I’m still not dead, so I must be on a winning streak, right?) and ask myself “...what’s good about waking up today?” That’s such a great question, isn’t it? 2) “...And before that?” I am a big fan of goal-setting and making plans – I did it for years but achieved very little in the way of results. What I learned about goals is that they work, but only if I work. When I think of goals I think fifteen years out from now, and imagine big things. Usually this means that my goals are too big, too far away and altogether too fuzzy to draw me towards them. In NLP terms they are big chunks, and I needed to be dealing with small chunks...but how? Well, I just ask the magic question “...and before that – what did I do before I crossed the finish line of that great big chunky goal?” Now I have to think about, and write down, the step immediately preceding the achievement of my massive fifteen-year goal. “...and before that?” I ask the magic question again, and write down the step preceding the penultimate step before I hit my goal. “...and before that?” The magic question works backwards from the final goal to something I can crack-on with today. It will be small enough and close enough that I can handle it, and it will get done. If it’s still too big, I’ll re-ask the magic question again until I can find a small enough chunk of the task that I can do, then deal with that chunk before I move on to the next chunk. Now that is a great question, don’t you think? 3) “...And what else?” I use this a lot when I’m coaching and teaching – usually when my client or student has a moment of insight or clarity into their previous situation, solves a problem or experiences a shift in perception. They’ve just had a singular moment, a revelation, if you will – but why stop at just one? Asking “...and what else?” sends the brain off in search of more revelations, insights, solutions and answers. Why stop at one? If you are capable of having one great idea, the chances are that – if you ask yourself to find it – you’ll find a few more, won’t you? So there you have it – three of the best questions I never used to ask myself, but now I ask all the time. And whilst they’re not difficult questions, they are unusual and useful questions, helpful questions. And if you try them for size, they might work for you. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis – 28/2/2019
Don’t you just love deadlines? When my old boss told me there was a deadline for hitting my sales figures I’d squirm inside; not because I had any doubt about hitting those targets, but because “deadline” is one of those words for me. There’s a certain implied menace in a deadline – the very word summons the dark presence of an executioner into the mind, stalking across my wall planner wielding a big axe... That’s hardly surprising, because the modern usage of deadline is thought to be a carry-over from the prisoner of war camps of the American Civil War. In the camps it was a practice to designate a line about twenty feet inside the perimeter stockade. Any prisoner encroaching on, or crossing, that line would be shot and killed without hesitation. Deadline – simple, menacing, ruthless. Today a deadline is the point in time where your ability to effect change ends. After the deadline, however good your work is, it will not be admitted or considered. As one of my mentors once said, “...they didn’t want it perfect, they wanted it Wednesday.” So I’m playing another of my stupid mind games on myself this week (the Department of No Surprise have been informed of this already, and they were not surprised). This week’s daft plan is to eliminate the D word from my vocabulary and replace it with a word that is less intimidating, less final – less fatal. I don’t want a fluffy word that suggests a troupe of gilded unicorns, choreographed by Busby Berkeley, prancing on my lawn – that would be far too distracting – but a solid, working-clothes kind of word with a pencil tucked behind its ear; a word that calls a spade a bloody shovel and whacks me round the back of my head with the aforementioned digging implement. And if the word can then tell me to get up off the bloody floor and stop being such a softie, preferably with a Yorkshire accent, that’ll be grand. So today I’m having a rummage through the rag-bag of my word horde for a suitable candidate... Pivotal moment...? Nope, a bit too airy-fairy for me. Moment of Truth? Better, but not doing it on a gut level. Crunch time...? Now we’re getting there. Turning Point...? I like this one, particularly if I use the German word “Wendepunkt”, because anytime you want to make a word more gritty and forceful just look up its German counterpart. Current front runner is the Bosnian word for deadline, “Rok”. I love this – because it sounds solid, immovable and brutally hard like granite – and of course, I’ll take action to avoid smashing into the Rok. So maybe it’s a rok, maybe it’s a deadline; but whatever you call it, a deadline gets things done. That’s why I care about deadlines - because they give me something to aim for, something to navigate by – and they compel me to focus on taking action. No deadline means that there is no sense of urgency to kick-start me into action on that task that’s going to make a difference. I’ll invariably put it off until tomorrow and kid myself that I will get it done. You might know someone else who does this, too: not you, obviously, but perhaps someone you know very well... You could even ask yourself how much you actually get done during your long holidays, and be honest about it. The chances are that you – like me – will achieve the square root of sod-all when there’s no deadline for a job or task that you want to get done. That’s why we are mortal – to give us a real, hard deadline, and in this case the mot juste really is “Deadline”. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  The Thursday Thesis – 7/2/2019
Think of a trial – what do you think of? For me it’s a judge in a wig looking over his spectacles at the accused; his gavel is poised, ready to pass judgement. That might be a product of watching Crown Court when I was a nipper – ITV’s weekday afternoon dramatisation of the court process and fictionalised cases. Words really mess you up, don’t they? “The Trials of Life” conjures the oak panelled courtroom and the red robes, the seriousness of everything. As a cliché, it passes under the semantic radar for years – and it did for me, too. But a little while back it blipped: naturally I did nothing about it, but it kept on blipping and the noise was driving me mad. Ping, Ping, Pingitty-Ping! A friend of mine said that we all faced The Trials of Life, and it was normal to feel as pissed-off about certain things as I was at the time. So I was on trial – seemingly for my very life. This was not good. So I started buggering-about with other words (inside my own head, of course – don’t want to get carted-off to the funny farm for thinking differently or anything). What might be less crushing than being on trial? To cut to the chase, I sort of settled on Choices. Yes, The Choices of Life – that felt better than being on trial. No bloke in a robe and wig, dry language and wavering gavel. Just Choices. So whatever happened with my life’s biggest challenge to date, I had a choice. Rethinking it as a choice gave me the power - all of a sudden - to control the result. One word booted me from the victim in a soulless sytem to master of my own fate: it all span on a single word in a worn-out phrase. Everything is a choice. How we feel, how we talk, think, feel, and how we pass through the world and how we make people feel; how we will be remembered – everything is a choice. Whether we fall or rise, love or hate, repel or attract: everything is a choice. We each make the choices that shape and sculpt our own future. Choose well. If your choice is flawed and doesn’t work out the way you wanted you get to choose again because this is not a one-shot deal. Day in, day out, you choose. If what you are currently doing isn’t giving you the kind of life, health, relationship and future you want, it’s time to consider your choices. We each have the power to choose, but we don’t use that power very much. So, what are you choosing that doesn’t help you? What are you waiting to begin? What would you choose? And fundamentally, who are you choosing to be? © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected]  It's only one croissant - what could go wrong? The Thursday Thesis – 31/1/2019
 The Thursday Thesis 24/1/2019 The Thursday Thesis – 24/1/2019
It’s and eternal truth that – at any time – there are hundreds of things in my life that I haven’t quite got around to finishing. Ranging from the tiny day-to-day items of unfinished business, though an old blog audio to upload, to the unfinished house renovation project which inches forward once in a while... You may even know someone who has similar issues... The stress of carrying around – and inventing reasons not to finish – all of that stuff is massive: it may even be easier to get the jobs done, tick ‘em off the list and crack on with the next thing on my ever-lengthening To Do list. That’s not a joke or hyperbole either - there’s a deep truth hidden in the joke: The Zeigarnik Effect. Back in the 1920s, a Russian psychologist named Bluma Zeigarnik ran a study on memory and how we are affected by our uncompleted tasks. Whilst at dinner she’d watched a restaurant waiter handle big, complex orders from her table. No problem – the waiter got everything right and the group enjoyed the meal, leaving later in good spirits. Zeigarnik realised she’d left something in the restaurant and returned to collect it, only to find that the waiter didn’t recognise her and could remember nothing about her or her companions. The results of the study were conclusive: once a task has been completed we will have less ability to remember the details of that task than an uncompleted task. It’s as though our brains tick their metaphorical box as “Job Done” and dispose of the memories it had needed to get the job done. How useful would it be to use that phenomenon to forget what didn’t serve us? This week I’m going to be experimenting with a couple of old issues – the unfinished business that I can do nothing about and have no need to hang on to. I’ll be reminding myself that those things were over a long time ago and they are dead and buried, that they have been shredded, destroyed and forgotten. I’m calibrating the big issue (an ex-friend who borrowed money and stiffed me for the payments) at 7 out of 10 for grumpiness when I think about it, and I’ll re-calibrate at the end of the week, just to see if running that reminder speech over and over makes things better. How about you – any issues you’d like to try that with? Let me know how you get on with it and if it helps: you never can tell if a daft idea can work wonders. © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible supernatural friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected] Waiting...  Cold, Dusk, Silence... The Thursday Thesis – 17/1/2019
Listen. Can you hear it? Just there – in between words and slid between the burble electronic s. Do you hear it? That’s where the magick lives, where the world of noise ends and the otherworld begins. Silence. Once upon a time I believed that silence was a simple thing, it was just a lack of sound, and absence of something. These days I understand that Silence itself has a peculiar substance all of it s own. There’s a texture to Silence, but you have to reach into the quietness to fell the distinctions between absence of sound and Silence. There is a difference. Silence is the rich, smooth and infinite darkness of sounds: the endless black onto which sounds are played, like the dark screen on which images are made to dance. And every silence is its own thing, distinct and different to its noiseless neighbour. The silence of your warm bedroom is not the same as the silence in a graveyard at 3 am. The silence after the storm is a lifetime away from the heavy, pressing air that came before the bellow of thunder. The belligerent hostility of silence after a row is unlike the Silence that mourns a lost love. And there is no silence like the loss of a child. As a musician I think of Silence as the other half of the music – the space in which the sound finds its breath, gathers its energy and collects its thoughts. I ask my students to play beautiful silences... Silence – which is something more than just quiet time – is life’s breathing space: Silence is where we listen to the spaces between the sounds, gather our own energies and shepherd our headstrong and wayward thoughts. Where will you find the beautiful silences in your day, today? © Neil Cowmeadow 2019 Please Like and Share The Thursday Thesis with your friends, family, and your invisible supernatural friend. I’d love to hear your comments, along with any ideas you’d care to hurl at me. [email protected] |
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