Pleeeeeeeease DON'T HELP ME!

Speaker outdid himself that day. His usual sparkle dazzled, his anecdotes garnered unwavering attention – his inimitable style arrested unbridled laughter which ensured that every member of the captivated audience would have the learning points embedded in their psyche, for yonks to come.

Listening raptly and observing with sheer delight, my creative juices gurgled forth with ideas of how this superlative delivery could reach those who were not there, as well as be available as permanent reminders for those who had been fortunate enough to be a part of the moments. As always, me the Trainer, huh? And when comments were invited, I proclaimed the same things too! As we were dispersing, still brimming with excitement, I offered the videographer some ideas if he’d like to hear them. He good-naturedly replied “We know what to do” with an indulging smile.

Undeterred from having the potential of the delivery exploded, I briefly mentioned my ideas to Speaker who said that it was fine to share them with Videographer. I did so a couple of days later, over the phone, stating that Speaker had suggested that I contact him directly. For reassurance that I actually do know what I am talking about, I offered Videographer that I do have a background in international background journalism, and had also written the script as well as directed a learning video for Malaysia’s prestigious Fortune 500 national oil and gas company, which was still being used in their international training center. Videographer listened intently, then explained that his schedule was full for the next few weeks, but that he would contact me when some time freed up. Ding Dong! That ought to have been the first alarm bell, right there.

Ever the champion of being transparent in work processes, I followed up with an e-mail that had all concerned updated on all the conversations shared and ideas put forth. Speaker endorsed the email, and in a follow-up call to me Videographer was very accommodating stating that he would let me know when the first edits had been done, and invite me over for a discussion at that time. Should I have heard a bell tinkling then?

Some weeks later another speaking session was due. It was the perfect time to contact Videographer again, so I did. This time he offered me the original tape to work on, (Aha! So that has been his fear, had it?) which I of course declined, reiterating that I was offering only ideas and to work with him, and not to take anything away from him. He seemed relived, and the conversation went well, and he assured me that he would record the upcoming session too.

On the day, we happened to meet on the way up and the crew was wonderful with helping to ready the hall etc. Afterwards, Videographer respectfully came over to say that this session would be a straight edit and I agreed that it certainly was of a different genre, unlike the other. He explained that his team was highly experienced and that his brother was a multimedia graduate and that he’d relate to Speaker directly now. Sigh. Hello? Creative people know that ideas enrich, not denude. Technical people believe the specs are all there is to something. Sigh; and sigh again. Oh well! This time I heard both the DING and the DONG, loud and clear!!!!! I DON’T need your help.

Several days later, Speaker said that he and Videographer had met and that he’d said that he could handle the project on his own. YES I KNOW my mind screamed. Calmly, I replied that Videographer had relayed that to me already and there were no issues on my part. Hello again? Did anyone think I was nuts to offer my time and professional experience FOC out of anything but the passion that courses through my perpetually red-hot veins? Silly, silly me. But no, I don’t want to conform to common, small-minded expectations! And I won’t. Passionate input anyone?

Cougars, Pumas and not-so-new attractions

Oooo and Ohhh and ahhh! Forced to sit still at the hairdressers, that is when I skim through women’s magazines. This article was about today’s’ excitingly trendy and caressingly blissful couplings between young men and older women.

Ages ago, it had been a beautiful, sparkling, sunny day in Washington DC USA and I was waiting for the bus to Baltimore to meet friends for a weekend picnic at their plush home. A decent young man started a friendly, civil, conversation – he must have been only in his late teens, but was quite purposeful about wanting to see me again on a date. Clearly, I was a professional on a visit to my HQ at the State Department – definitely waaaaay out in his age group, so I felt no more than appreciated and flattered, and determined NOT to divulge how he could contact me.

Several years earlier than the DC encounter, the same thing had happened at an English gray, rainy train station in Reading, Berkshire, UK as I was waiting for a train to take me to an interview at the Far Eastern Broadcasting Corporation. This man was even more insistent and said he would wait for me at the same place the following day. No. I did not DARE to show up! Coward! That’s what my friends called me. What was I afraid of, huh?

Why did I not respond to the invitation of these young men? Well much, much earlier than these encounters, in another country in Asia I had befriended a man with whom I shared common interests in every area in life. He was much, much younger than I was but the rapport between us was both soulfully compelling and magnetically irresistible. The vast differences in our ages proved to be a non-issue to us as we worked together, relaxed together, worshipped together. I was already an established professional – he was on a break to continue his academic studies. What we shared was beyond moral reproach and everyone admitted that we were great together, but the differences in our ages caused bitter division among our colleagues, friends and families. Our Pastor too was caught in the dilemma as some church members felt that the age difference was no barrier, while others thought it was downright scandalous!! Can you imagine the atmosphere around us, of puritanical outrage clashing with romantic sympathy and compassion? Even members of our families were divided with the younger ones delighted at our happiness while the older ones feeling downright embarrassed over our relationship, while remaining supportive of us as individuals. That was very stressful for me as I did not want to be the cause of pain to those I care about. When it inevitably came, the breakup was traumatic and took a very long time to get over.

Many years down the road, I was quite amused this week to read this article about the current trend of blissful couplings between men and the older women of their choice, and why such relationships are so emotionally and physically compatible, and now gaining social acceptance too. Hmmm????!!! It seems that the time has come, when psychological compatibility now outweighs physiological couplings! History trumpets that sexuality knows no age restrictions anyway.

Coincidentally this week, one daughter shocked me a few days ago by saying point blank that its high time I did whatever I believe that makes me happy – actually her words were far more direct – and to just disregard what people around think. The other daughter, actually, had been saying that for years now. Hmmm again.

So the multi-billion $ question is: WHAT would I do? Would I run away again, with my heart thumping in fright? Or look the world in the eye and say ‘Hey it’s MY life, people’ while delicious thoughts tantalize my mind. I’ll just cross that bridge if and when I come to it I suppose. Hmmm???? Hmmm??!! and Hmmm!!!!!

Elusive Decisions

She sounded shrill and at the end of her tether “Yes! I know it is difficult for you – but you HAVE to make a decision!!” “Of course it is not easy for me too – but you must make up your mind already!!!!” Oops! It sounded like a trying situation was being discussed, to say the least.

Colleague was late (as he usually is, so what’s new?) so I had opened the newspaper to scan it at leisure while waiting. Our meeting place of choice was pleasantly devoid of customers at that hour, so we would be able to have a discussion in a civil and conducive atmosphere. I hadn’t a clue WHY he wanted us to meet, but, anything in the interest of forging good working relationships ey? I ordered a drink and a snack and prepared to enjoy some peaceful solitude with muzak gently teasing my ears and playfully evoking warm and fuzzy emotions. What a blissful morning respite from a hectic week.

Seated by the picture window, I saw a well-toned muscular man open the door and stride in confidently, bulging out of his snug t-shirt. In contrast however, he seemed to be looking a tad sheepish, the way he smiled. Well, I went back to my paper, facing the window. Several minutes later an attractive, well-groomed woman dressed in casual but smart clothes was crossing the road and coming towards me, looking very purposeful. Her clear complexion and glossy hair did nothing to hide the grim, set look on her face which detracted from her fresh-faced beauty. She approached, aha! - she was headed for the restaurant! Still very purposeful, she opened the door and walked over to the man. No greeting. Oh dear! Something’s amiss there; please, please don’t spoil my peaceful morning?

Well, the animated conversation (on her part anyway) was hard to ignore. He was trying to softly counter what she was saying. Were they an item having a spat? Or just 2 colleagues caught in an impossible tangle of events? I wondered; not that it was my business, but it was really hard to ignore the shrill interjections. Being ever so polite (ha ha – it’s that Convent school indoctrination, you know), I buried my head in the paper and pretended not to hear the conversation, but her anxious decibels made that rather difficult. The smoothie was barely audible though, surprise, surprise. And what was he trying to gloss over?

As they continued to tussle over whatever it was they were struggling with, my mind began to wander and gravitate towards a situation that had been tormenting me for yonks! You see, it is usually easy for me to arrive at the crux of what is bothering me and then address it clinically. But this situation was different. For months I have been agonizing over whether it was the circumstances or the central figure that has gotten under my skin. But my usually sharp analytical abilities continued to fail me! Why? That does NOT happen to my clear thought patterns. WHAT is going on? Unclear diagnostics meant that preparing a response has been out of the question. Isn’t it simply perplexing when one can’t get to the bottom of things?!!!! Should I respond to the circumstances, or to the central figure around whom events swirl?

By the time they left ages later, the couple had not seemed to have resolved anything. And I too am resigned to taking just one day at a time, allowing things to unfold or unravel or consolidate or whatever. Sigh! Why are the answers so elusive this time? Oh well. I suppose patience begets character. Some (grudging) consolation there perhaps; sniff and pout.

Courageous, enduring, family love

Early this year they said that he stood in the hall of the home he'd lived in for more than 20 years, but was strangely confused about how to get to his bedroom. Stumped! More recently, he can no longer recognize them - sigh - and this took me back to a bittersweet celebration.

I was at a Chinese New Year dinner, replete with blinding vermillion table-cloths thrusting precarious heaps of glowing, golden mandarins into our lines of vision.

Walking to the buffet line, I recognized the young man across the room, and my heart skipped a beat. “Oh! He looks just like his father did at that age!” I winced inwardly; tears pricking my eyes. The photo of his radiant, father and glowing, mother – as they had been decades ago - was still displayed at the front; posing proudly for the camera, as couples in love often do. Walking now with Manjit was his mother, smiling into his face. Was the father still alive? All evening I wondered but dared not ask, more out of fear of what my own reactions might be, than of theirs.

Another – contemporary - picture of Manjit’s parents flashed onto the screen. The once handsome man was now confined to a wheelchair, his eyes piercing, and yet somewhat vacant too. His wife was at his feet, one of them in her hands, massaging it, lovingly. Why? Because she knew that had been one of his pleasures. Perhaps he could still connect with some of that distant delight? Anyway, it was worth it to even possibly stoke some positive memories in this Love of her life.

Pensively, I filled my plate and returned to my table, not really hungry. Didn’t feel like chatting much either. When I’d arrived I’d made a mental note to seize the first decent opportunity to leave. Why do I keep attending these gatherings when I always feel this way!!?

The glitzy PowerPoint presentation over, the elegant lady beside me seemed frozen. Faridah stayed half-turned in her chair, mesmerized by the screen. I touched her arm and she turned. Her reddened eyes glistened like the diamond pin that fastened the scarf around her head. As our eyes met, all I could mutter was “It’s so hard, isn’t it?”

Conversation around the table was genuinely warm, yet constrained by varying emotions among us. Across sat the elderly Changs. I’d seen them in the parking lot earlier on, he painstakingly guiding her faltering steps ever so gently. Both were most affable. Mr. Chang kept an eye on his wife’s plate, devotedly supervising what she was doing, ensuring that she put nothing bony into her mouth. Mrs. Chang cheerfully chipped into our conversations, with inappropriate comments which her husband good-naturedly explained away.

Between us were middle-aged Danny and his mother. She was a sweetie, her face creasing into radiant smiles as she burst into peals of laughter at her son’s loving teasing. His natural attentiveness towards her was incredibly moving – she was confident and relaxed, obviously a much-loved lady. Danny drove home the common bond among us by relating how his mother had attempted to eat the lipstick, while being dressed for dinner.

Yes, we all laughed in sympathetic camaraderie because we’d all been there too. Faridah kept looking at the four of them wistfully, sporadically declaring “at least they can still talk and laugh. My husband can’t even do that anymore.”

It’s been many years since I first met Manjit, his mother, and Faridah and her husband. They’ve been regulars at the Alzheimer’s Disease family-support-group meetings – battle-scarred veterans of an excruciating test of family love.

I remain a mere student of ‘Dementia and Her Ravages’ – my mother retains a sharp memory and has no problems recognizing me. I kept joining these lovely people to stay reminded that unconditional love is pleasantly possible. Each time I do, my initial awkwardness is quickly thawed by the way they boldly flaunt their courageous love for one another. And I find myself relaxing, blending in, and leaving much, much later than I thought I’d want to, a richer person for merely having been there with them, partaking of their incredible expressions of love.

And He sends angels

July began with the door slamming firmly shut on a 2 year contract that had technically been in the bag and was waiting only to be presented. Thud! That wasn’t just the door – it was the sound of merrily dressed Promise & Hope plunging to the bottom too. NOT good. This postponement was yet ANOTHER one in 2009, and the straw that threatened to break this camel’s back. Sigh.

But thankfully, the next few days were going to be bz, bz, and busy with meeting groups and smiling, and motivating and bustling. Showtime in effect; where I was going to be required to perform as if I hadn’t a care in the world, and to deliver my promises to be supportive regardless of my own concerns. Which duly happened of course. So what’s new eh? Grin, smile, encourage, you know - you do it and then you actually believe it too? Very therapeutic! You know what? Bright red lipstick helps too ha ha. Try it and tell me if it works for you too, won’t you? J

Well, the very day after receiving the email, the star performer, (referred to as Star from now) showed up bright and early at a largish event and replied to my polite greeting of enquiry “How’s it going?” with “How bad can it get?” with a deceptively charming Cheshire grin. Hmmmm. Star was having some kind of a toughie too obviously, but spunkily went on with the show like a real trouper! And Star even performed with his usual panache and aplomb – which I took as a sign from the heavens to me to soldier on too. What was that Divine Promise that “He will give His angels charge over you”? Standing on the Promises la-la, la-la ………

So I decided to mention to Star that I needed some new marketing linkages since he just might chance upon something during his conversations. But did that happen? NO. Star was scurrying hither and thither juggling deadlines. Such is life (huff and pout).

But I tried again the following day. I simply had to. My mouth was dry and I felt awkward framing the words, which somehow stumbled out, making some sense I hoped. Isn’t it wonderful how bold Bravado emerges when shining Hope and glittering Promise have failed to live up to themselves? And Star the trouper promised to see what he could do.

Another show, another day waking before dawn to get some paperwork out of the way before engaging in more ra-ra to cheer others along their way. But, what was THIS? How amazing! After I’d gone to bed an email had come in from Star linking me to someone who described needing PRECISELY the type of project I revel in getting my incisive teeth and creative juices into. Oh wow!
I was supposed to contact her (New Hope) asap! But it was waaaay too early. So, I emailed New Hope anyway, and as the show began I sent her a text message just so I wouldn’t miss the boat.

You know what? Before the current showtime was over I received a return text from New Hope, saying she had set the wheels in motion. Oh! What simply perfect timing! Imagine TWO angels – Star and New Hope to return eager Anticipation to my life. And I celebrated by lunching with new found friends who were simply charming and very soothing to my anxious mental bugbears. I even relaxed in a new-found haven to gentle jazz while the sunlight skipped cheekily across the dainty waves ruffled by the breeze over a lake. What bliss! All part of the re-branding that had begun not too long ago; but that’s another story to tell you!