Tag Archive for: Learning

The Quiet Realisation

After graduating from university many years ago, I found myself doing what many of us do at that stage of life, scanning the horizon for job opportunities and wondering where I might fit in.
One of those opportunities came in the form of Ford Motor Company, with a potential role based in Dagenham.
It was a great big opportunity, the kind I couldn’t ignore.
I progressed through the early stages of assessments and regional interviews. Then came the invitation to the final selection process.
Three days in Dagenham, a hotel stay and just twelve of us left from the thousands who had started.
The first two days went very well.
Each day, we were given feedback on how we were tracking, and I found myself in a strong position, close to securing one of only a handful of places.
I could even start to picture it. The job. The future. The direction my life might take.
Then came the tough final day.

Knowing

I recall a series of complex global transactions, multiple currencies, decisions under pressure, all in a team session, and closely observed. I remember sitting there, working through it all, with a growing sense that this wasn’t quite clicking.
And somewhere, in those few moments, being honest with myself – I knew.
By the end of the exercise, I had a quiet clarity, this wasn’t going to be for me.
At the time, it felt like a near miss, one of those “almost” moments.
But looking back now, it feels more like a gentle redirection.
This moment turned out to be an important one in my life.
Had I stepped into that commercial role, my whole life would have unfolded in different ways. I understood then, that choosing one path, let’s go of countless others.
Life has taught me that not getting something isn’t always a loss, rather it’s simply a realignment. And what feels like failure may simply be life steering you away from something that doesn’t quite fit.
I have learned too that you don’t always need the final result to know the answer. Sometimes you just know, and that quiet clarity has saved me a few times from chasing the wrong thing.
Looking back now, I’m genuinely grateful for those three days.
Because sometimes the opportunities we don’t get are the ones that quietly shape everything that comes next and help us understand who we are becoming.
Is there a path you didn’t take… that you’re now grateful for?

The Art of Not Hurrying

I tried a little experiment recently.
In my determination to slow down and ruthlessly eliminate the feeling of hurry, I deliberately…. yes, deliberately, forced myself to stand in the longest line at Tesco to pay for my groceries.
I must admit it was tough!
I even let another person into the line to go ahead of me.
That was pretty tough too!
Admittedly, to begin with there were a few downsides, and I felt a little anxious as I observed other lines and self-checkouts moving faster.
But there were a lot more upsides!
I engaged in several lovely conversations and somehow that felt like a much better outcome for me.
In fact, I noticed things I would normally miss… a smile, a comment, a bit of shared humour.
It felt less like “wasting time” and more like choosing how to spend it.
It actually felt good, to start slowing.
Choosing to wait, made hurrying impossible for me.
I know I need to practice and train a little more and find a few other ways to slow myself even more.
Can I survive without hurrying?!
Hmmm….
Do you find yourself rushing when in fact there is no need to?
Maybe the slow lane isn’t the worst place to be after all.
Next time, I might even choose it again… on purpose.
What’s your version of the slow queue?

Make it Fun

Sometimes, life can bring along difficult situations, hard or even tedious tasks at times.
Some tasks can just drain you, even just the thought of it!
Or am I alone in that thinking!?
You know the ones.
The long list.
The thing you’ve been putting off for a while.
Or even the bit of the day where your energy quietly slips out the room.
I’ve been noticing this a little more in our learning programmes at work with Aviva too.
There’s a very predictable moment, right after lunch.
We come back into the room…
And within minutes, you can almost feel the shift.
Energy dips.
The room gets quieter… but not in a good way.
And it’s nobody’s fault.
We’re all just human after all…
So, quite often these days, we’ve started doing something very simple.
We 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 and have a little bit of 𝐟𝐮𝐧.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing forced.
Just a short, slightly playful energiser.
A quick activity.
A bit of movement.
Something that gets people talking, laughing, interacting again.
And without fail… it works.
Shoulders lift.
Eyes re-engage.
Learning comes back to life.
It all starts with a small thoughtful question:
“What’s one small thing we could do to make this a bit more fun?”
And that question changes things.
I’m starting to wonder if this applies far beyond our learning programmes.
That difficult conversation.
That overwhelming to-do list.
That task you keep avoiding.
What’s one small thing you could do to make today just a little more fun?

The Stationery Aisle Experiment

I read a lot. Its been a habit of my lifetime.
If anything, though, I probably read too fast.
Occasionally I use a well-worn red highlighter pencil to mark memorable passages. I had picked it up somewhere and I’ve been using it for ages.
But with all the thoughts recently at work about little experiments and micro habits, I decided to make a small behavioural change in early March.
It started, slightly randomly, in Tesco.
I was in the stationery aisle and decided, for no big reason, to buy a new set of highlighting pencils. And then a pencil case, because once you start, you may as well commit properly.
The idea was simple. Slow down. Pay attention. Make reading a bit more deliberate.
Now when I’m reading, I’m looking for something. Not in a forced, academic way. Just 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. When a sentence stands out, I stop. That’s the key change. I actually stop.
I pick a colour, underline it, maybe read it again.
That pause is doing more work than I expected.
It breaks the habit of rushing through.
It makes me sit with the idea for a second instead of immediately moving on. It turns reading from something passive into something a bit more active, without making it feel like hard work.
I’ve noticed too, somehow it’s strangely more satisfying.
There’s something about having a pencil in hand, about marking a page, that makes the whole thing feel more intentional.
And when I flick back through, seeing those bits of colour scattered across the pages, it feels like a record of what actually landed. Not what I read, but what stayed.
It’s early, but I think it’s working.
I’m not reading less. I’m just reading with a bit more awareness. A bit more care.
All from the idea of experimentation with behavioural change and a small decision in a Tesco aisle.
It turns out slowing down isn’t about reading less, it’s about 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆.
Where else could a small pause make a big difference for you?

Slenteren: The Case for Moseying

Yesterday, Monic and I found ourselves doing what many couples do at IKEA from time to time….
Walking. Wandering. Looping backwards and forwards. Sitting on chairs we don’t really need.
But somewhere between the kitchens, the cushions and the exit, Monic used a Dutch word I hadn’t heard before:
𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧.
Not rushing.
Not heading anywhere in particular.
Just… moving slowly, together (and losing each other occasionally too!)
We paused.
“What’s the English word for that?” she asked.
We played with a few.
Ambling.
Strolling.
Sauntering.
Meandering.
Moseying.
Each one close… but not quite complete.
And as we continued our two-hour “journey” around IKEA, it struck me – we weren’t just looking at furniture…
We were definitely 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈! 👫
Unhurried.
Unpressured.
Unstructured… in the best possible way.
Reflecting this morning I thought about a wee life lesson.
In a world that rewards speed, output, and efficiency, there is something quietly powerful about moseying.
Because when we slow down:
• We notice more
• We think more clearly
• We connect more deeply
• We feel more
Life has taught me that not everything valuable comes from moving fast.
I’ve found that oftentimes the best conversations and the clearest thoughts, come when we simply… slenteren through them.
Where in your life could you afford to mosey a little more today?

A Better Beginning

Since I was 12 years old and my morning paper round, I’ve been up early, usually around 04.45.
It’s been a lifelong habit.
Over the years however, I’ve noticed something creeping into my morning study routines.
So, on the 1st of March, I began a simple experiment.
It was nothing hugely dramatic and it certainly wasn’t some big life overhaul.
It was simply just one small act of self-discipline: I stopped picking up my phone first thing in the morning.
For some years, it had been automatic.
Wake up, walk through to the living room and pick up my phone.
Result – good intentions to aid my studies, but inevitably there were distractions – messages, emails, news and…noise! 🤨
For the month of March – I decided to wait…
Just one hour.
Instead, I gave that first hour to quiet.
To my personal study, prayer, meditation, to thought.
To an unhurried, more disciplined slower start.
And the difference has been very noticeable.
My mornings feel calmer.
My mind feels clearer.
I’m less reactive, more intentional.
It’s as if I’ve taken back control of the tone of my day, rather than outsourcing it to whatever happens to be trending overnight.
Interestingly, I’ve also been reading The Anxious Generation, which reinforces just how much our devices – especially first thing – shape our emotional baseline in ways we often underestimate.
This isn’t about rejecting technology, or pretending the world isn’t happening.
It’s about sequence.
What we give our attention to first seems to matter more than we think.
For me, one simple boundary – no phone for the first hour – has become a quiet anchor and provides a better beginning to the day.
If you were to experiment…
What might your first hour look like – without your phone?

26 Names. No pressure.

Yesterday I saw something I’ve only witnessed a handful of times in my life.
As my co-facilitator Kelly and I kicked off Module 2 of our Lead the Way programme in Perth with Aviva, we met our cohort of leaders for the first time.
It was their second time together, though. They already knew each other. More importantly, they knew each other’s names.
Kelly and I, on the other hand, were starting from zero.
To get things going, I ran a simple line-up activity. It’s one of those exercises that looks easy until I realised, I was struggling to remember even three names in a row!
My idea was simple: learn as many names as possible without making it obvious I was guessing.
While I was doing that, Kelly stood back, observing. I casually (and somewhat jokingly) challenged her to see how many names she could remember.
We got to the end of the line. Twenty-six people.
I turned to her and asked how she’d done.
To my astonishment, she started at the very beginning and worked her way through every single person.
One by one. A couple of tiny stumbles, but even those she almost rescued.
There was a quiet, collective “wow” moment.
Later, I asked her what her secret was.
She said she imagines a friend of hers standing just behind each person – someone who shares the same name.
That was it. No complicated system. Just a simple, human connection.
And that’s what stayed with me.
Because this isn’t really about memory. It’s about attention.
As leaders, we often look for big gestures to make an impact. We think it’s about strategy, vision, or saying the right thing at the right time.
But moments like this are a reminder that leadership often shows up in much smaller ways.
Learning someone’s name.
Using it.
Making them feel noticed.
It’s easy to underestimate how powerful that is. But in a busy, distracted world, being remembered is rare. And being remembered by your leader? That sticks.
The lesson for me was simple: people don’t need us to be impressive. They need us to be present.
If leadership is attention, where are you placing yours?

Formulas

Recently, I’ve noticed a bit of a trend at work… formulas.
Not the kind that take me back to school (thankfully), but the kind that try to capture a value, a virtue, or a principle in a neat, almost mathematical way.
Simple and memorable is the key.
So naturally, my colleague Annmarie and I thought… let’s give it a go.
In a recent virtual session on accountability, we introduced the idea right at the start and invited people to notice any thoughts, ideas or impressions that came to them during the session.
We then got on with things as per normal, breakouts, discussions, shared experiences. All of the usual good stuff.
As we came towards the end, we returned to the idea and gave everyone a few minutes to create their own “accountability formula.”
And then… we triggered a chat storm.
(If you’ve never seen one, the idea is everyone holds their response… and then everyone hits enter at once. Instant energy and instant insight.)
The chat lit up with some brilliant thinking.
But one response stopped me.
One participant captured his thinking using just a handful of emojis.
No words.
No explanation.
And yet… it said everything.
Accountability = 📖 + 🥺 +🤯 + 😎
I caught up with Robert Miller yesterday and asked him to walk me through it again.
It was thoughtful, simple, and spot on.
I was going to explain it here…
But actually, I think it’s far more fun (and perhaps more revealing) to leave it with you.
Sometimes the most powerful ideas are the ones that are simple enough to be shared, understood…and open enough to mean different things to different people.
And when we create space for everyone to contribute at once, we often hear from voices that might otherwise stay quiet.
𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮: What do you think Robert meant by his formula?

Check in – Check out

I bought myself a ball recently.

In fact, I bought three, one for each learning room in Perth.

At the start of every session of the Lead the Way leadership programme at Aviva, we check in with one another.

We assess how everyone is feeling, and we determine what we want from the learning opportunities that day.

At the start, no one really knows each other yet.

There’s that quiet shuffle, a few polite smiles, and the unspoken thought of “please don’t pick me first.” 🫢

It can be awkward and even a bit intimidating. Especially when you’re asked to share something real in a room full of near strangers.

On our final day, we check out and consider again our feelings and what we have learned over the duration of the programme.

I noticed some of my fellow facilitators experimenting with different tools and activities on each occasion.

Sitting, standing, line ups, circles, balloons and balls of all different sizes and colours.

Checking in and checking out, is a big thing.

So, we each bring in the big support…!

For me – it is a rubber ball, nice and bouncy… ⚽

No pressure, no spotlight, just a simple rule: if you’ve got the ball, it’s your turn.

If you don’t, you can relax (or plan what you’re going to say while pretending not to).

And somehow, it works.

And the psychology of it is quite simple.

Turns out, giving people a ball gives their nerves somewhere to hide. And when that happens, the words seem to come a bit easier.

The ball gets passed around (or tossed, bounced or rolled), the room softens, people start to smile, and before long, proper, honest stories start to come out.

Funny how something so simple can help people feel a bit braver, a bit more comfortable, a bit more themselves.

Sometimes, all it takes is a ball to get things rolling.

A small reminder that when people feel safe and at ease, learning has a much better chance of sticking.

So, I’m curious… what simple things have you seen make a big difference in helping people open up?

Delays, Diversions and Leadership

As I set off for work yesterday, my travel was beset with delays and diversions.
Leaving home a little later than usual, I immediately found myself in a long line of traffic as I headed out of town past the High School.
Further along, there was a road closure north of Wellwood, which meant I had to turn around and come back into town, where I was met with another line of traffic.
I then decided I’d be best to head along towards the motorway past the hospital, only to be met by yet another long line of cars as they queued at some temporary traffic lights.
My normal time to the motorway is around 8 minutes; yesterday’s was 28 minutes.
And then when I arrived in Perth, I faced another unexpected 15-minute delay as I encountered more traffic lights and roadworks again.
It was a little frustrating, to say the least.
Sometimes diversions and delays can be so annoying, and yet there is often very little we can do about them, other than adjust, stay patient, and keep moving forward.

Lessons Learned

It struck me later that the journey felt a lot like leadership.
Rarely is the road straight or predictable. Plans change. Obstacles appear without warning. Routes that normally work suddenly don’t.
In those moments, leadership is less about having the perfect plan and more about how we respond.
Good leaders stay calm when the route changes. They reassess, choose the next best option, and keep people moving in the right direction. They don’t waste energy wishing the road were different; they focus on navigating the one in front of them.
Because in leadership, just like on the road, progress rarely comes from a perfectly clear path. More often, it comes from patience, perspective, and the willingness to keep going even when the journey takes longer than expected.
What might unexpected detours be teaching you about patience and perspective?
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