Chasing the wind

Ecc 3:22 “So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot.”

There is nothing better, and nothing harder for me. It is my lot and I am cursed by the fact that I am unable to let go, to just coast through the remaining period here and enjoy retirement. There are many things to put right but I get nowhere.

I try to persuade, to put across my point as delicately as I can, but the responses are telling. They either betray an unwillingness to engage, a wilful blindness if you will; or worse, a tendency to stick to risk-averse positions that break down under closer scrutiny.

I reach out to those who are supposed to help and support me but no help or sympathy is forthcoming and I fight on alone. Maybe they think I’m in the wrong, maybe my approach is not as palatable as I thought it was.

It has been a very difficult week, made more difficult by the realisation that no one really cares. Everyone’s doing their own little charade - perhaps that is uncharitable of me but that’s what it feels like. I have no real clue or confidence that much of what I do actually matters.

There’s no feedback - no one likes negative feedback but for me it would be at least evidence that someone cares. Indifference is my worst enemy.

That was my lowest point in my working life. Never have I felt so despondent. No one noticed, or cared. And it’s funny but it becomes almost a point of pride that you would not tell anyone how you really feel because to do so might be a sign of weakness. So you suck it up and soldier on. But it eats away at you inside. And so even in some extreme circumstances, people would always remark after the fact, “but he seemed so normal and seemed to be doing fine”. They don’t understand. Doing your best to appear that you’re on top of things is the last vestige of the depressed.

The reason I’m telling you this is not for sympathy. There’s a lesson here - and many more that I alluded to. We are to love, so reach out to people. Ask how they’re doing, show them a little kindness, listen to them a little more attentively, give them your time.

But God is good. A few days later, someone sent me this article which I shared with you. 

https://thereformingtrombonist.com/2016/04/29/on-making-good-shoes/

Not sure if you read it, but it really struck a chord with me because of what I was going through. And it reminded me of what is really important about the work we do. This verse quoted in the article said it best:

 Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. (Colossians 3:23-24)

I am encouraged to work heartily, not seeking any positive acknowledgement from men, and so whether they accept my views or suggestions is not important. Whether they respond or not, also becomes irrelevant to some extent. We just need to pray for wisdom that we are doing the right thing and to seek God’s help in opening hearts and minds.

Just like in the spreading of the gospel, what matters is not  only converting / convincing someone - otherwise most of us would be considered poor Christians - but that in our conduct we are giving good testimony. 

In the examples at work I gave, this testimony would then be about selflessness (that it’s not about you), and courage in speaking up. But always with kindness, which can be extremely difficult. I did not do too well there.

But my head is clearer now and there’s no longer a burden. I am but one messenger and there will be others who carry the fight subsequently.

remembering my father (and mother)

After the busy week I had with the delegation in town, I took it easy on Saturday just chilling out and catching up on my chores which had been neglected the whole week. The place was a bit of a mess. Sunday I played golf with one other chap - the rest were either fasting or travelling. Quite apart from the fact that it had been a long time since there were so few of us playing, it was also a day when the temperature was a frigid -2 degrees when we started.  I said on our golf chat group later that day that both of us who played should be awarded the Holland Park Golf Club Gallantry Award "for dedication in the face of sub-zero temperatures and risking frostbite, without any regard for personal health and safety." (Note: I don't know why it's the Holland Park Golf Club as only Devin, my American friend lives there. Along with a certain David Beckham and Posh Spice. But hey it's the chairman's prerogative to name the club)

The cold was not that bad - there wasn't much wind. That would have really made things miserable. But we were actually quite comfortable, all wrapped up. The challenge was to dress in layers that would be easy to peel off. The sun came out and it actually felt quite warm, even hot later in the morning. Golf is an even more interesting game once you really get into it. With the freezing temperatures, the ground was quite firm and we had to adjust our game. A bit like life. You need to roll with it, to take what life throws at you and make the best of it. No use making excuses, especially if everyone had to deal with the same conditions.

Then when I was at home, I remembered that the anniversary of my father's passing was a week ago, the day of the delegation's arrival in London. I had been so busy preparing for the visit that it had slipped my mind - I didn't forget the March babies though:)  To be fair it was 10 days earlier so no excuse.

I was slightly upset that I had forgotten. Whenever I'm home, I'd always arrange to meet with my brother for a drink. We would spend time reminiscing about him, and exchange stories to fill in the gaps because we each had our own perspectives and experiences. We are 8 years apart, but when we were growing up, it felt like more. My parents were not those that showed much outward physical affection, nor communicated that much to us either. But they cared about us in their own ways.

My mother was the typical worrier, but she never really put much pressure on me in school, except when I faltered. In primary school, the occasion that triggered her version of a meltdown was when I dropped to third in class! She wanted me to stop playing softball and it took the intervention of my wonderful teacher who persuaded my parents that I should be allowed to continue. Her way of showing love was material. When I did well in school, she would reward me with something - I never really wanted anything, and the most significant thing she got me for doing well was a Bulova watch. Later I became interested in photography and she funded that hobby too - something that Uncle Kum Leong also enjoyed. I suppose it was because in photography, his handicap didn't matter. In her later years, her worry was that I was not really doing anything with my life - her perspective was the very traditional Chinese idea that if you want to make something of yourself, you don't join the police or army. She would ask me from time to time, whether it was good to be a policeman.

My father was the typical quiet hardworking Chinese father who didn't spend much time on hobbies or anything. I do remember him drilling me in my multiplication tables (ask Mummy if you don't know what this is) when I was in primary school. We memorized them in Cantonese!  To this day, I sometimes still work it out in my head in Cantonese!!! So apart from school, we didn't have that much to talk about but he was there for me when I started doing triathlons, sending me to races. A few of my most treasured photos are of us at one of the events. I can't be sure but I think he was quietly proud of me though he would of course never say it publicly or to me. I say this not because I did not feel loved, or had somehow lost out because I had a less publicly-affectionate father, but it's just a fact. I think he probably felt the pride because one of his closest friends, a distant 'uncle' on my mother's side who was more educated (and who my father respected) always liked me and would often engage me as an equal when I started working.

Anyway back to the topic about Uncle Kum Mun and I sharing our different recollections about our father. Because he was much younger, he got to know our father a little better after he retired and spent more time at home. I had already moved out after getting married and before that, I had been busy working and didn't spend much time at home. (Those first few years were exhausting as I had to do 24-hour shifts as an investigator, and I'd often go home only after 28 to 30 hours as there would be administrative stuff to clear up.) But I had also seen a side of our father that Uncle KM was too young to recall or maybe not even seen - for instance, he had no idea that our father played the accordion! I doubt many others knew this either. He stopped playing quite early, but I still have some vague memories of him playing.

The first night of the funeral wake, we basically just stayed up and talked about how much we missed him. We both cried, and while it was a shame that it took our father's passing to really connect but I am glad we did and it has made us closer since then. The first year after that I spent every day thinking about my father, often tearing up in private. For a while I was torn up because I had made the decision to pull the plug. Did I make the right decision? Should we have waited longer? I had no answers. I also had some regrets of course, that I didn't spend more time with him, getting to know him better. But what I do have I cherish very much.

And so this year, this little post is my way of remembering him, and giving you an idea of who he was and what he meant to me.

Two chiefs (not chefs)

My first experience being on the other end of a delegation visit. I have been on so many, and I know there's a lot of work that goes into it. This has given me a better appreciation of what goes on behind the scenes. The need to be prepared for unexpected situations, for things going wrong or not according to plan, to make sure people have the information they need - and expect you to have.

But my most abiding impression has been in how leadership looks from two very different perspectives. You see, we made two courtesy calls to two partners and I would not normally have taken away very different reflections on these encounters because as the delegation supporting our bosses, we are really just part of the furniture. We take notes, nod approvingly and laugh at the occasional joke. We don't really matter - and it's fine. Until it isn't. 

You see, life is often like that boiled frog analogy. I started thinking about this recently when chatting with my colleagues and we were lamenting the state of some of our admin support (which I really should stop complaining about - more on this later). Somebody then said something to the effect that as former police officers, we are very resilient and 'we survive'. Which is true. We grit our teeth and just get on with it because there is a job to do. And for the most part, things aren't so bad that we can't even do our job.

But in a perverse way, that perspective then become some sort of badge of pride, of honour, that we 'survive'.  And we then forget, or is more often the case, give up trying to improve things. That is not right. Because there is another way to think about this. And that is that we could have done better. How much of how we perform is down to our mental state? That we feel someone has our back, and will do whatever it takes to help us succeed, that we are all in it together? And next time when you are in a position of responsibility for a team, one of your most important tasks is to create the conditions for them to perform. That arguably comes before anything else such as managing and motivating them.

Back to what I really wanted to talk about.

When we make a courtesy call on some VIP, the staffers are often invisible and we learn that this is the norm. And so it was with the first call on this trip. The VIP spoke to the leader of our delegation, and not once to the rest of us. He barely looked at us (only doing so at the start when he shook our hands) and the closest he came to acknowledging our presence was to sort of say in general that there were refreshments (scones and fruit). The call ended, and gifts were exchanged between the bosses, and he then left the room, carrying the gifts himself. His staffer then handed out the gifts to the rest of us. 

It was interesting that our leader noticed how the VIP carried out the gifts himself. Often we observe though our own individual lens - e.g. we observe a leader though our experience of leading. Impressions of others are never purely objective are they? In a way, our own biases and perspectives often are a powerful influence on what we notice. We like people who are like us, or like the version of us we believe we are. We notice their positive traits more readily and easily. The converse is also true. We notice the faults in others that do not agree with our perspectives and values and downplay their virtues that we may not have.

Anyway like I said,, I would not have given this a second thought if not for meeting another VIP the next day. He was such a good host, greeting us warmly and then asking all of us to introduce ourselves. And then at the end, he personally handed us our gifts and even said to me, "You know where I am KC", meaning that I could call on him. Not that I am likely to of course and in all likelihood it was just a throwaway line used as a matter of courtesy but it works you know? Making people feel that they matter is so important.

I am not even remotely suggesting that the two incidents are a true reflection of the two personalities. We sometimes have good days, and sometimes bad days. Sometimes we are not on our game and people see the worst of us and think that is us.  Very often there are no second chances to create a better impression. Engagement opportunities are often infrequent - which means each encounter is precious. So we need to ensure we are always as close to the best version of ourselves as we can be.

And this means taking a critical view of ourselves. Self-awareness is so important and I think this is where the Spirit moves us. After that ranting session with my colleagues, I felt no better than the people I ranted about. I get carried away too easily and begin to sound arrogant, or at least feel superior in some ways to them. So I told myself that I will stop doing this. 

I don't mean to stop being critical because that means reverting to being that boiled frog. But I need to watch my tone, become objective, be less emotional. Stop making the story about me because that is what rants are all about.