2012 Has Passed Us By – We Missed It!

A writer once said, “I love deadlines; especially that whooshing sound as they go by!” Well, the deadline of 2012 has snuck by us all without a murmur, without a whoosh. Despite the thousands of people making predictions (and the millions following those predictions) about all sorts of mind-shifts, natural disasters, magnetic gymnastics and spiritual hoopla sometime in 2012 – some say July, some say December – a massive shift has already occurred and we’ve missed it … a whooshless shift that fooled us all.

Let me explain with two business examples and an educational one:

Jamsetji Tata was denied entry to a grand English-owned hotel in his hometown of Bombay, because he was an Indian. So incensed, he determined to build his own hotel, better than the English one, and he did – the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay, which opened for business in 1903 and which is far grander than the one he was ousted from. Today, his legacy includes, among other massive institutions, Tata Motors Ltd which is now the world’s largest automobile manufacturer. The company is also the world's fourth largest truck manufacturer, the world's second largest bus manufacturer, and employs 24,000 workers. The English were the ruling class for a time but other nations have eclipsed that domination … many people have not noticed the change.

Many massive, global companies like Ibis Hotels (which are currently opening seven hotels a week) and Travelodge have stopped any new investments in the no-growth areas of Europe and America while they pour billions into new projects in the expanding economies of China, India and Africa. China, the wealthiest nation in the world, is currently pouring billions a day into Africa, the fastest growing market in the world.

I currently teach in an Iranian university, based in Oxfordshire, England. My students – Indians, Bangladeshis and Pakistanis – already have bachelors and masters degrees. They are already well qualified but the status of an “Oxford Education” brings them here. They arrive with high hopes of an education and an establishment so much more glorious than the one they left. Their hopes are soon dashed as they are forced to study in an old, cold building that, in any civilized country, would have been pulled down long ago. The English education system, so attached to its former glory and unable to embrace a new millennium, is a huge disappointment for these hope-filled people who have come from the massive, progressive universities of their homelands.

You see, over the past 1,000 years the West has held sway. The Romans ruled 1,000 years ago, the Italians in the 1300’s, The Spanish in the 1500’s, the French in the 1600’s, The English in the 1800’s, the Americans in the 1900’s and now … well, right now, our necks have been so kinked, looking back at America, that we haven’t noticed the shift right in front of us … the shift to Africa and Asia.

Once we recognize and accept the shift in the area of world domination, we’ll start to recognize other whooshless shifts that have already happened while we weren’t looking – shifts in our minds, our emotions, our finances, our communities. So, if you feel a bit shifty, just know that a silent whoosh just passed you by. Smile and enjoy it.

52 - Giving Service

Some time ago I had told God (and anyone else who was listening) that I was here to serve and that I would do whatever was asked of me. Nice words, nice thoughts and suddenly nothing happened. Nothing happened but it did happen suddenly.

Then Anna went to a talk on Tuesday and the speaker and her husband have helped to set up a trust to help people in greed-torn Zimbabwe and they need a bookkeeper. It doesn't sound like a huge job and, with the university work only part-time, it all fits in very nicely. It also sounds so right and I cannot tell you why - it just does. So my giving back has started and it will be interesting to see where it leads.

Back to Arthur's scary story, continued from the previous blog …

"They can't, as I said," said Ahmed with finality.

"You might be right but my gut tells me queasy things, whatever they are," said Halee.

"Mine too …" said Mary. Her phone interrupted her and she snapped it out of her pocket. "Yes Sam, how are you?"

"No Mary, it's Angus," said her brother, laughing. "So yer boyfriend's Sam is it?"

"Angus, what do you want?" asked Mary, confused. "You've never rung my mobile before."

"And I've never been to London before either and here I am, in this stupid city," said Angus.

"What the hell are you doing in London, you daft bugger?" asked Mary, feeling strangely comforted by her brother's proximity.

"I want to know where this damned house of yers is," said Angus, sounding frustrated but jovial. "I said I would pop down some time and here I am. Where do I park a car in this crazy town, girl?"

"Ah, oh hell, Angus, this is so … so unexpected. Hell, it's awkward at the moment," said Mary quickly, trying to think clearly, logically.
"Well that's a fine welcome for a long lost brother, I must say, sis," said Angus, the joy going from his voice.

"Oh Angus, I'm sorry, it will be grand to see you. Really it will but I'm not at home right now and I'm waiting for an important call …" said Mary.

"From boyfriend Sam, I suppose," said Angus, interrupting with a chuckle.

"From Sam, yes, but he's not a boyfriend, like I told you," said Mary, feeling embarrassed in front of Halee and Ahmed while her brain failed to come up with an immediate solution to the problem, like it usually did. Losing it again! Damn!

"And, hey, it's not just me, sis, I've got some important visitors for ye," said Angus, his chuckle beginning to get right on her craw. "All the way from New Zealand to see ye and ye're out on the town, living it up!"

"Look, Angus, let me think for a moment, will you," said Mary. "I've got your number and I'll call you back in a jif."

"Okay sis, just give us an address of the closest hotel and we'll catch up tomorrow, yeah?" suggested Angus. With a huge relief, Mary gave him the address of a hotel around the corner from her apartment and told him she'd pay the bill.

"I can't let ye pay me bills, Mary. Doncha' know I'm Scottish!" said Angus with a laugh. She wondered what he'd been smoking - she'd never heard him so chipper before.

"Yeah and so am I so shut up, book in, enjoy the amenities and I'll be round in the morning to settle up and have breakfast with you," said Mary as the solution presented itself. She was curious about his visitors but needed to have the phone clear for Sam's call. "Okay?"
"Okay, we can argue about it tomorrow, you obstinate Scot!" said Angus and the phone went dead before she could reply.

As Ahmed announced their arrival at his apartment, he grabbed the briefcase to go.

"Hey Ahmed, do you mind!" snapped Mary, not letting it go. "This is my case, not yours. Okay?"

"But I am the man and I must protect you two women," said Ahmed, obviously surprised. "That is my duty."

"Oh Ahmed, that's so kind …" said Mary, uncertain what to say next, so long used to fending for herself.

"It's my duty," said Ahmed with finality.

"Ah, your Muslim duty," said Mary, suddenly realising the man she had worked with for the last two years had a life and beliefs beyond the insurance company. "You're not used to taking orders from women and I'm not used to men doing for me."

"Well, Miss Collins is the boss so she gets the case and you get the door, Ahmed," said Halee cheerily. "Would that work?"
"I don't feel right …" said Ahmed, uncertainly.

"Don't feel, just do," said Mary, handing the taxi his fare. Ahmed still hesitated. "Ahmed, now! They'll be here any time, I just know it!"

"But we've lost them," said Ahmed, hesitating between the modern world he worked in and the ancient world of his ancestry.

"We don't know that so get going and let us safely into your apartment, will you!" said Mary, feeling opportunities for safety slipping away. She could see him relax as he seemed to make a decision.

"Yes ma'am," he said suddenly, releasing the case and leaping from the taxi up the steps to unlock the imposing front door into the spacious foyer of the Kensington apartment block. Mary and Halee followed on his heels.

"Holy moly, you could have a choice party in here!" exclaimed Halee, her voice echoing round the cavernous space. "You didn't tell us you lived in a museum, Ahmed."

"It's not a museum, it's an apartment block, Halee," said Ahmed, explaining carefully, obviously unsure whether she was joking or not.
"Wow, you live here," said Halee turning round and round, taking in the intricately patterned marble floor, the oak-panelled walls, the marble and mahogany staircase that went up five floors, the plastered ceiling sixty feet above them and the massive chandelier in the centre of it. "You could keep your pet brontosauruses here, along with a herd of elephants, Ahmed!"

"Well, yes, it is nice to have the space - a nice contrast to the rest of London," said Ahmed smiling as he walked over to the lift.

"Space? SPACE? You could keep your pet concord in here too!" exclaimed Halee, her voice rising, obviously in a trance. "We're not using a lift when there's this Gone With The Wind staircase here, are we?"

"Oh, well, I've always used the lift," said Ahmed. "The stairs are for tradesmen to take furniture up and things like that. It's not seemly to use them."

"Not seemly? Not blooming seemly?" exclaimed Halee, probably finding the habits of Londoners unusual. "Come on Ahmed, I'll race you. What floor are you on?"

"Oh, the fifth floor, Halee, but you cannot run around in here. It's not done," said Ahmed, his usually calm features looking decidedly lopsided as he scratched his immaculately trimmed beard.

"Not done? 'Tis now …" said Halee.

Taking Criticism Better

I'd asked a friend (Michael Gould, author of Filfy O'Durr) to comment on the novel I'd just finished - The Importance of Being Arthur. He's a learned and great writer and very gentle (loving) with me, in his assessment of my words. I actually had to agree with nearly everything he said and he did put a huge amount of time and consideration into this project. However, despite that, I still had to brace myself before reading his constructive comments. Having been with this story for over a year, I'm constantly surprised at how attached I am to what I've written, despite Anna and I having given the story a good "going over" many, many times.

I'd asked a friend (Michael Gould, author of Filfy O'Durr) to comment on the novel I'd just finished - The Importance of Being Arthur. He's a learned and great writer and very gentle (loving) with me, in his assessment of my words. I actually had to agree with nearly everything he said and he did put a huge amount of time and consideration into this project. However, despite that, I still had to brace myself before reading his constructive comments. Having been with this story for over a year, I'm constantly surprised at how attached I am to what I've written, despite Anna and I having given the story a good "going over" many, many times.

They're only words but, with so much invested in them - my creative past and hopeful future - it is difficult to hear anything about them, good or bad, without my heart popping up into my mouth.

We mould our children and then let go to the rest of the world to buff up and add shine to. We must let them go and trust they know what's best for themselves. And so with this baby of mine that is bound to have many more buffings from agents and publishers, to make it shine even more.

So, thank you, Michael, for your loving commitment to helping improve the story and for helping me to learn to let my baby, The Importance of Being Arthur, go.

So, here's more of Arthur's story, continued from the previous blog ...

"It's like accounting where we only have the most primitive, paper ledgers, or the most advanced, computers," said Ahmed, looking excitedly at Halee. "Where are all the intermediate accounting technologies like the abacus, the slide rule, the accounting machine and so on, for developing nations to do their accounting with? They've all disappeared."

"Okay! Okay you two," snapped Mary. "We're in a taxi with a case load of papers that, apparently, contain some inherent danger to us. This is all very interesting about technologies and stuff but what value has any of it to us, right here now …. with Sam, AIL or anything else?"

"Oh yeah, right," said Halee, looking mollified.

"Well, let's brainstorm," suggested Ahmed, putting on his logical hat. "We haven't seen all the papers but what we've seen is Power Corporation accounts, Olympic contracts and intermediate technology. Let's keep these big headings in mind and keep looking."

"Oh, we're nearly there," said Mary, putting the last file back in the bottom of the briefcase, just as she had found it. "Halee, please come up with me, switch my phone over - it's not really my thing, this technology - and you, Ahmed, can you hold the fort here and keep a lookout for saboteurs, please?"

"Yes, absolutely, Miss Collins, and I'll keep the case here," said Ahmed. "Then you can fly on winged feet, as we say!"

The taxi driver was happy to continue the fare for an indefinite time, especially as some of it would be paid without actually having to move. He got out for a smoke while the two women dashed inside.

Ahmed was sorely tempted to delve into the case again but disciplined himself to stay alert and keep watching, which was just as well. A car soon parked behind him and two men leapt out and ran into the building. Ahmed recognised one as the tall one who had handed Mary the envelope and then ran into the crowd. The other man was shorter, solid and dark skinned. Without thinking, Ahmed leapt out and told the cabbie not to go but to be ready to take off.

"Just like in the movies, yeah!" said the taxi driver, laughing, as Ahmed dashed up the steps to find the two men in the shadows, pushing buttons, one after another, in an attempt to gain admittance to Mary's apartment.
"Oh hell, where'd you come from?" asked the taller man, obviously not British, looking confused as Ahmed drew out the pistol he told Mary he wouldn't carry.

"Get away from the door, down the steps and be gone!" ordered Ahmed.
"Okay, okay bro', no need to get heavy," said the shorter, dark skinned man. "We're just goin', we're just goin' …"

Ahmed stepped back to keep space between himself and the men as they backed awkwardly down the steps. He kept his pistol trained on them as they turned and fled to their car. His pistol followed their car as it leapt from the parking spot, with a screech of tyres, and disappeared into the night. His eyes went to the taxi and he realised, with alarm, the driver had disappeared. He looked around and back again, to see a head tentatively appearing from below the driver's window.

"I'm sorry Sir, I won't shoot you!" said Ahmed, realising his pistol was still aimed over the taxi, in the direction the other car went. He quickly pocketed his pistol. "Please wait. We won't be a minute!"

He turned and pressed the intercom number he knew was Mary's. He waited. He pushed again. He waited. He pushed again and heard Mary's voice.

"We need to go now!" he yelled impatiently. "We've been followed so you need to get out here now!"

"Oh, right," said Mary.

"I just wanted to get some girly things," said Mary, puffing as she was bundled into the taxi. "So I could get this men's stuff off."

"Sorry ladies, no time. We must away!" said Ahmed gallantly, calmly. "I'm really sorry to have scared you, Sir. This is not something we normally do," said Ahmed, explaining inadequately to a frightened looking taxi driver, to whom he gave the address of his apartment.

"Well, at least you'll hear from Mr Lord now," said Halee, as ever, looking for the bright side as they were driven to Ahmed's apartment in Kensington. "But why do I get the nagging feeling we're still being followed, somehow?"

"I don't think we'll see them again," said Ahmed, confidently.
"How did you do that? And two of them? Did you recognise either?" asked Mary, wanting to know everything immediately.

"Yes, one of them was the one who gave you the envelope, back at Trafalgar," said Ahmed, suddenly remembering the envelope. He pulled it out of his pocket and tore it open. On it were typed the words: 'We do not give up searching the taonga for anyone or anything. Give it up now and you will not be hurt. Arohanui'.

"Taonga? Arohanui?" said Ahmed, saying the strange words slowly. "What do they mean?"

"They're Maori words," said Halee. "Taonga is a gift and arohanui is love, big love, universal love. It means they will honour their promise - we won't be hurt if we give it up now."

"Well, that's too bad. I'm not giving this case this up for anyone!" said Mary grimly. "And how exactly did you scare these two men off, Ahmed?" She had distinctly uneasy feelings about Ahmed's methods.

"Oh, I just shouted 'boo' and they ran!" said Ahmed, probably hoping humour would disperse her concerns.

"Why do I get the feeling you used the gun you said you wouldn't?" asked Mary.

"Oh dear, you've caught me out," said Ahmed, smiling sheepishly.
"You have been remiss, Ahmed, but I forgive you," said Mary, smiling at him. "I dread to think where we'd be if you hadn't done what you did, whatever it was. And you might be right about our safety, Ahmed, but something tells me they' re still tailing us, somehow."

"Me too," said Halee, quietly.