I had set a commitment to write 1,000 words a day and to publish them as a blog to ensure I would keep the commitment. My coach, Riana Avis (www.rianaavis.com) asked me this morning, "Where did that need for commitment come from?" Her question momentarily stunned me and then a flood of scenes from a time long since past flashed through my mind … of parents, siblings and my first wife berating me for changing jobs so often … of being unreliable, changeable, not consistent and all the other terrible things that didn't fit with their view of the perfect child, brother and husband who is one who gets a job and stays in it for life.
Riana's question crashed through my psyche like a Christchurch earthquake and I realised - though none of my family will ever read this blog - that I was trying to prove to them (or myself?) that I was "normal", in their definition of the world. Riana suggested that my changeability and sense of adventure may just be a part of who I am, what makes me me and it may be a good idea for me to make peace with that changeability that I am.
I then realised that I have never wavered from wanting to make a difference through teaching, writing and business - I have never changed in that aspiration. In fact, I reminded myself and Riana, I have actually completed the writing and publishing of nine books … eek, I AM a finisher when it comes to my one, consistent passion.
And, as I ruminate on these realisations and make peace with myself, I wonder just how many of our talents are buried beneath a pile of doubt, disgust and trying to fit in …
And so what's Arthur up to - continuing from the previous blog ...
Soon they were all settled round the friendly fire, with tea and cakes before them and with a small desk for Arthur's papers, at his side. He spread his papers out but, despite his lengthy preparation at home, was uncertain where to start. He kept shuffling his papers, hoping his brain would start.
"Now, Arthur, old chap, we have you here, ostensibly, for an insurance claim but, for us, that's incidental," said Lord Atkinson. Now that he was in his accustomed clothes, Arthur could see better that he was a tall, spare man with a good head of silver hair, as they say - a man who obviously took good care of his body and clothes, as did his wife. She was slightly shorter than his six foot, wore minimal makeup and looked immaculate. They were dressed in what might be called the casual estate collection - both were in checked shirts (hers with the collar pulled up and his with a school tie), fawn slacks and sturdy leather brogues. "We did lose some items in the burglary, and some had a reasonable value, but we'll be far from upset if we're turned down for the lot, old chap."
"Oh, you won't?" said Arthur, with relief and puzzlement. He wondered, in the split second that you can wonder something really big, why he'd had to spend so much time on this claim, considering it had so little import to the claimant. Squeezed into the same split second was a question mark, bigger than the drawing room in which they sat, over his real reason for being here - obviously not the reason he was led to believe.
"Of course, you'll probably want to approve a substantial portion of it so the FSA fellows don't become too suspicious," said Lord Atkinson.
"Look, let's not skirt around the woods," said Lady Atkinson. "We know your Sam Lord better than you think we might and he recommended that you're to be trusted in this matter."
"Yes, absolutely, dear," said Lord Atkinson. "You see, the police and the FSA are not necessarily to be trusted and I'm not sure which of my political colleagues can be relied on so it always comes back to Sam Lord. He's been a brick over the years, such …"
"Anyway, the crux of the matter, Arthur," said Lady Atkinson, interrupting again, "we have something that's disappeared and now Sam has, only a few weeks later. We think they might be related."
"Oh dear," said Arthur. "You think Mr Lord could have stolen off with this item?"
"Oh no, oh dear no," said Lady Atkinson, leaning forward earnestly. "It may be that Sam was close to finding this item for us that he has disappeared."
"Oh?" said Arthur, sensing that sensible questions were less embarrassing than sensible statements.
"We're sure there's a link - initially we were concerned about the plans but now we're more concerned about the safety of Sam," said Lord Atkinson. "They're serious, the people we could be dealing with, absolutely ruthless rotters …"
"So, the plans my husband mentioned," interrupted Lady Atkinson, getting back to the core of things again, "could mean the end of the petroleum and all other energy industries and that could be catastrophic for hundreds of thousands of workers and for the billions of profits of these companies."
"Oh?" said Arthur, finding it the only useful of the two million in the English language that he had any use for, right now.
"Yes, oh!" said Lord Atkinson, smiling grimly. "That's what we thought when all this was presented to us. You see, our son-in-law, John Maranui, is a publisher in New Zealand and, though his interests are a little … shall we say, off to the side, he's a jolly good man to our daughter and, as we've got to know him, full of integrity."
"Because of his … shall we say, interesting interests, as my husband said, he's been drawn into something we now feel as passionate about as him," said Lady Atkinson. "He met a man who wanted him to publish his book and it started from there. This Bruce Cathie, who had written his controversial story, had been a pilot for NAC, New Zealand's national airline, now called Air New Zealand. This Captain Cathie had first seen a flying saucer over the Manukau Harbour, Auckland, in 1952 and in discussions with other airline pilots discovered this wasn't uncommon. However, his bosses were not impressed that he was publicising his discoveries ."
"There's nothing so motivates a chap to do something as to tell him not to do it!" said Lord Atkinson, chuckling.
Arthur smiled and nodded, remembering how, a few hours earlier, he had almost wished Joan had objected to him coming on this trip - then he would have had cause to stand up for himself. Maybe there was a belligerent side to his nature, unrecognised till now, that was asserting itself. He shut off those uncomfortable thoughts to listen.
"So, our Captain Cathie felt impelled to know more about those flying saucers, and how they moved and powered themselves," said Lady Atkinson quickly, warming to the subject. "In the course of his investigations, he met a Robert Adams , a scientist with New Zealand's Department of Scientific Research. Robert had started working on a free energy motor and was impelled, by Bruce's enthusiasm, to carry on."
"Robert called his invention a monopolar motor and, after many attempts, developed a motor that was 137% efficient. That means that it produced more energy than it used," said Lord Atkinson interrupting, his enthusiasm equal to his wife's. And that's where Robert's problems started."
Riana's question crashed through my psyche like a Christchurch earthquake and I realised - though none of my family will ever read this blog - that I was trying to prove to them (or myself?) that I was "normal", in their definition of the world. Riana suggested that my changeability and sense of adventure may just be a part of who I am, what makes me me and it may be a good idea for me to make peace with that changeability that I am.
I then realised that I have never wavered from wanting to make a difference through teaching, writing and business - I have never changed in that aspiration. In fact, I reminded myself and Riana, I have actually completed the writing and publishing of nine books … eek, I AM a finisher when it comes to my one, consistent passion.
And, as I ruminate on these realisations and make peace with myself, I wonder just how many of our talents are buried beneath a pile of doubt, disgust and trying to fit in …
And so what's Arthur up to - continuing from the previous blog ...
Soon they were all settled round the friendly fire, with tea and cakes before them and with a small desk for Arthur's papers, at his side. He spread his papers out but, despite his lengthy preparation at home, was uncertain where to start. He kept shuffling his papers, hoping his brain would start.
"Now, Arthur, old chap, we have you here, ostensibly, for an insurance claim but, for us, that's incidental," said Lord Atkinson. Now that he was in his accustomed clothes, Arthur could see better that he was a tall, spare man with a good head of silver hair, as they say - a man who obviously took good care of his body and clothes, as did his wife. She was slightly shorter than his six foot, wore minimal makeup and looked immaculate. They were dressed in what might be called the casual estate collection - both were in checked shirts (hers with the collar pulled up and his with a school tie), fawn slacks and sturdy leather brogues. "We did lose some items in the burglary, and some had a reasonable value, but we'll be far from upset if we're turned down for the lot, old chap."
"Oh, you won't?" said Arthur, with relief and puzzlement. He wondered, in the split second that you can wonder something really big, why he'd had to spend so much time on this claim, considering it had so little import to the claimant. Squeezed into the same split second was a question mark, bigger than the drawing room in which they sat, over his real reason for being here - obviously not the reason he was led to believe.
"Of course, you'll probably want to approve a substantial portion of it so the FSA fellows don't become too suspicious," said Lord Atkinson.
"Look, let's not skirt around the woods," said Lady Atkinson. "We know your Sam Lord better than you think we might and he recommended that you're to be trusted in this matter."
"Yes, absolutely, dear," said Lord Atkinson. "You see, the police and the FSA are not necessarily to be trusted and I'm not sure which of my political colleagues can be relied on so it always comes back to Sam Lord. He's been a brick over the years, such …"
"Anyway, the crux of the matter, Arthur," said Lady Atkinson, interrupting again, "we have something that's disappeared and now Sam has, only a few weeks later. We think they might be related."
"Oh dear," said Arthur. "You think Mr Lord could have stolen off with this item?"
"Oh no, oh dear no," said Lady Atkinson, leaning forward earnestly. "It may be that Sam was close to finding this item for us that he has disappeared."
"Oh?" said Arthur, sensing that sensible questions were less embarrassing than sensible statements.
"We're sure there's a link - initially we were concerned about the plans but now we're more concerned about the safety of Sam," said Lord Atkinson. "They're serious, the people we could be dealing with, absolutely ruthless rotters …"
"So, the plans my husband mentioned," interrupted Lady Atkinson, getting back to the core of things again, "could mean the end of the petroleum and all other energy industries and that could be catastrophic for hundreds of thousands of workers and for the billions of profits of these companies."
"Oh?" said Arthur, finding it the only useful of the two million in the English language that he had any use for, right now.
"Yes, oh!" said Lord Atkinson, smiling grimly. "That's what we thought when all this was presented to us. You see, our son-in-law, John Maranui, is a publisher in New Zealand and, though his interests are a little … shall we say, off to the side, he's a jolly good man to our daughter and, as we've got to know him, full of integrity."
"Because of his … shall we say, interesting interests, as my husband said, he's been drawn into something we now feel as passionate about as him," said Lady Atkinson. "He met a man who wanted him to publish his book and it started from there. This Bruce Cathie, who had written his controversial story, had been a pilot for NAC, New Zealand's national airline, now called Air New Zealand. This Captain Cathie had first seen a flying saucer over the Manukau Harbour, Auckland, in 1952 and in discussions with other airline pilots discovered this wasn't uncommon. However, his bosses were not impressed that he was publicising his discoveries ."
"There's nothing so motivates a chap to do something as to tell him not to do it!" said Lord Atkinson, chuckling.
Arthur smiled and nodded, remembering how, a few hours earlier, he had almost wished Joan had objected to him coming on this trip - then he would have had cause to stand up for himself. Maybe there was a belligerent side to his nature, unrecognised till now, that was asserting itself. He shut off those uncomfortable thoughts to listen.
"So, our Captain Cathie felt impelled to know more about those flying saucers, and how they moved and powered themselves," said Lady Atkinson quickly, warming to the subject. "In the course of his investigations, he met a Robert Adams , a scientist with New Zealand's Department of Scientific Research. Robert had started working on a free energy motor and was impelled, by Bruce's enthusiasm, to carry on."
"Robert called his invention a monopolar motor and, after many attempts, developed a motor that was 137% efficient. That means that it produced more energy than it used," said Lord Atkinson interrupting, his enthusiasm equal to his wife's. And that's where Robert's problems started."
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