BLUE TO YELLOW

I recently read a blog (Advice Fortune Cookie) where a reader asked of the blog writer, a 'wise fortune cookie', how do they win the lottery, find the perfect life partner, land that dream job? How can they increase the chances of these things happening? Why don't all these things 'come' to them? Especially when they purchase copious amounts of lottery tickets, go to all the places where the singles are and read all the wanted ads. 

The 'wise fortune cookie' responded to the enquirer that the dilemma that they faced was not one of luck but was in fact based in science. The reason why the enquirer felt that the lottery, a perfect match and the dream job eluded them was due to probability and that basically life is a numbers games. It is the size of the odds, in the scheme of things, that has the greatest impact on whether these things happen or not . 

I'm not going to write about probability. The author of Advice Fortune Cookie does a far better job of explaining probability (I recommend you read Money and love and landing that job: The role probability plays throughout our lives) than I ever could. But what I liked about this blog was the wonderful descriptive analogy used to explain why things don't happen just the way we want them too. Why sometimes no matter how many lottery tickets you buy, how many people you date, how many jobs you apply for, sometimes it feels like the odds are against you.

In the blog the reader is asked to compare life to a giant ball pit full of balls of two colours, blue and yellow. In order to get what you wanted from life; money, love, job, you merely need to dip your hand into the ball pit and pull out a ball. The trick, however, is to pull out the right colour ball. The problem, especially in the case of winning the lottery, is that the chances of picking the right colour ball is greatly reduced simply because of the sheer numbers of the wrong colour ball. Or to put it more simply, in order to became rich from winning the lottery you need to find the one yellow ball buried in a sea of millions and millions and millions of blue ones.

That's life. It's not easy to grab that one yellow ball amidst the sea of blue ones. Sometimes we get lucky and the odds come up really good but more often than not we are faced with a sea of blue. 

Which brings me to why I am writing this. Not that long ago I faced my own sea of blue. I was lucky enough to be short listed for the role of Creative Consultant on a Landscape Project. I won’t bore you with the details, but I have to say I was surprised when I got the call to advise me that I had been short listed. The project was interstate and I thought my chances where, at best, a long shot. Although I did work really hard on my proposal, and I suppose in doing so reduced the odds somewhat. In fact I had reduced the odds to the point where there were only three balls in the ball pit and I only had to pick out the one I needed. The yellow one. But even when there is only three balls the odds are still three to one and after all my effort I still ended up with a blue one.

Yes, I was disappointed that I had missed out on getting the yellow ball. It was frustrating knowing that it was right there, staring me in the face. I had done a lot of work and had jumped on a plane and flown interstate to get it. But someone else was better, closer, had a greater chance at snatching it out of the pit. And snatch it they did, at the last moment, out of from under my hand just as I was reaching for it.

As I flew home I reflected on being so close to having the prized yellow ball. But rather than dwell on the fact that someone else now had it I decided to have a look at what I had been left with, the wrong coloured ball. I began to think "what if I can make this ball different, it's still a ball, it's still round, it just isn't yellow. What if I can make this ball yellow? How can I make this ball yellow?" And before I had even got off the plane I had forgotten that I had missed out of this job and was well into planning the next and all the others that would come after. Instead of worrying about the yellow ball that had got away, I was now focused getting the next one. I just have to get that yellow ball.

Probability, the odds, the numbers game, they can often feel like they are stacked against you. But changing your perception of a situation is a powerful thing. I had a one in three chance of a yellow ball. I got so close to this one that I got to see it, understand it, examine it but it was not to be. Instead I got something else, a different colour, the same shape, but still a ball. I figure though, now I know what that yellow ball looks like I have a better idea of how to get it. It shouldn't take too much to change the colour. To increase the odds of getting a yellow one next time. 

CHARLOTTE

Unless you have been living under a rock or tucked away deep in some cave meditating on the changing colour of your bellybutton fluff, you would be aware that Kate and Wills have given young George a little baby sister. A sweet little girl, no doubt the apple of her parent's eye and upon whom will have all sorts of luxuries lavished upon her due to the social status of her family. And why not, she is a princess after all.

Kate & Wills with their Charlotte

When a princess is born, everyone coos and exclaims "how wonderful, a princess". When a princess is presented to the world on the steps of the hospital or her image appears in the paper, everyone smiles and says "how adorable". When a princess is given a name that is regal and royal and befitting of her status, everyone nods in agreement and remarks "how lovely, Charlotte, what a sweet name. Perfect for a princess." But not me, when I found out that the latest little royal was to be christened Charlotte, I fist pumped the air and shouted "yes!!!"

A strange reaction, I will admit, but secretly I had been hoping that 'Charlotte' would win the royal baby name lottery and for a very good reason. It's not every day that a princess bears the name of a family member. 

Unfortunately my family has never been bless with particularly royal type names. I don't think there has ever been a King Derek or a Lester - Duke of North(somewhere or other) or even a Duchess Heather or Debbie. There is, however, a very good possibility that there may have been a Lady Yvonne in some French court but for the most part the names in my family are not very, well royalish. But Charlotte, there's a name that was always in with a chance and I'm not surprised.

My daughter with our Charlotte aka Nana Irving

My paternal grandmother's name was Charlotte and although my Nana Irving's life was a far cry from that the new little princess will experience, if my grandmother was the embodiment of a name then this princess will have a lot to live up to.

My grandmother, my Charlotte, was a lady. An English lady. A lady who offered you cups of tea in her little room in the assisted living home, where she lived for all of my childhood. A lady who always worn beads and stockings and lipstick and carried a purse over her arm, even when we went to Wynnum to eat fish and chips in the park.

A lady who lived through bombs dropping on the streets were they lived. Who had to make do with war rations and lived with blackouts. 

A lady who agreed to pack up her children and follow her husband to Australia, leaving behind her family, her life, everything, to live on a farm in the bush, with no electricity or running water. A lady who raised her children almost on her own while her husband went to work in the city and she stayed on in the bush. 

A lady who battled a crippling mental illness all of her adult life but always kept her faith. 

A lady who had no material possessions, no house, no car, not even any furniture to speak of, but always gave of what she had, her love and her forgiveness, to everyone she came in contact with, especially her children and her grandchildren. 

A special lady who was never bitter about the hardships she had to endure, who never wished things were better but always smiled and had a soft embrace and a tender kiss for us.

My Charlotte, my grandmother was tender, gentle and loving and I sincerely hope that her namesake brings the new princess these same qualities. Princess Charlotte won't ever have to endure a life that my grandmother had, but if she grows to be a person, a lady, who possesses the qualities of my grandmother, she will be worthy of the name Charlotte. And it will see her firmly placed in world's heart. 

Just as Princess Charlotte's own grandmother was. 

THE REASON

I noticed the other day that I hadn't posted anything on my "Chicken on the Head" blog since the 6th of May. No, that can't be right. Surely it hasn't been that long. Today is... the 6th of July! Oh wait, it has been that long.  Where has the last two months gone?

No more excuses, it's time to get back of the horse, to get to back to it.

So tar dah. 

Announcing... the "Chicken of the Head" blog re-start.

I do have a reason for this pause. It's not because I had nothing to say. Anyone who knows me would agree that I rarely have nothing to say. It's quite the opposite, I often have more to say than most people. The reason for the pause is also not because I had nothing to writing. Like my need to have something to say, my need to write has also not diminished. I have been writing. I have been writing lots, great tomes of stuff.

I have been writing story ideas that pop into my head, bits of novels that I have started and have been adding to in fits and starts. I have been writing more tales about my fictitious Uncle Maurie and bad poetry. I have been writing expressions of interests for work, copious emails, shopping lists, Facebook posts, and a first drafts for the "Chicken on the Head" blog. Only thing is, none of this writing makes into the blog. Lets face it, does anyone really want to read my shopping lists or an expressions of interest for some job. I don't think so. 

The other thing that has been happening is that everything that I write for the blog, I write in a note book that lives next to my bed, ready for those 3 am "don't think you are going to sleep" ideas that pop into my head. Yes, I write pretty much everything in long hand in a note book before you get to see it. The trick is getting it out of the note book and onto a computer screen. 

I don't normally make excuses for my behaviour, my doing or not doing. I try and live by the rule of being 100% responsible for my own actions. If it hasn't be done, it's because I haven't done it. But this time I do have an excuse, actually it is more of a reason than an excuse. A very good reason why the stuff in my head has made it only as far as my note book and has failed to get onto the computer screen. I have been busy.

Or more accurately, my life has become busy.

When I left my job back in March this year, I made the decision to make space in my life. Up until that point I had been running around like the proverbial chicken with no head and not really getting anywhere. I needed to stop, breathe and get my life back on track. And stop I did, almost a dead stop. I gave myself time and I have to admit that during this time I spent more than one day on the couch, in my pj's, watching bad daytime TV. I was exhausted, burnt out, overwhelmed by my life. But I knew this and prepared for it and gave myself permission to take this time. Six weeks of pajama wearing, navel gazing nothingness so that when May arrived I would be ready. Ready to get going again.

By the time May did arrive though, boredom was starting to set in. My navel gazing and categorising of bellybutton fluff was starting to have an odd effect on me. My hope and positivity was starting to drain from my sole and hopelessness loomed like a solid brick wall. I began to have a niggling feeling that I had made the worst decision of my life. That is was a big mistake to leave my "oh so secure" job in search of freedom, passion and a life beyond the four walls of a 6 x 4 grey cubical. Panic was setting in. The CV came out. My belief in myself was bottoming out. I heard that they were hiring again at my old job, a lower paid position than the one I had left. One that wasn't a management role, with much less responsibilities. Maybe I could have my cake and eat it too.

I have a weird belief in my life. I believe that just when you think you are about to chuck it in or if you can't make a decision or are at a lose end the universe steps up and whacks you around the side of the head and offers up a chance to change. This has happened to me several times during my life so these days when it happens I usually sit up and pay attention. It was as I was deciding whether to return to my old job that I received my kick in the pants by the universe and things began to change. I stopped, took a breath and listened, to myself, to my daughter and to a friend. I knew I couldn't go back to that "oh so secure" job. That there was no going back. And in that instant, things began to change.

Which brings me to what I have been doing since the last post on the 6th May. The reason why nothing has appeared on the blog. I have been working and writing and planning and networking and gardening and, believe it or not, making space in my life to let these things happen.

I have been working with an Architect friend on his projects. I have been following my passion for writing when ever I have a free moment. I have been planning the development of a community garden for Canungra with some new friends. I have been strategising and planning the development of my landscape architecture business, traveling interstate for a job proposal and seeking out new opportunities. I have been getting my hands dirty in my garden, building with the help of my husband a wallaby, chicken and dog proof veggie garden, ready for spring planting. I have been breathing, making space and taking notice. I have moved on.

So the reason is, I have been busy. Busy living. It's not an excuse, just the reason. Because when you are busy life is at it's best. Life is great when your busy but not hectic.

I'm pretty sure I will still spend the occasional day on the couch in pj's but now I prefer to do that when the week that stretches out before me is littered stuff that involves writing and working, gardening and planning, family and friends. A week that is busy.