The elephant is back… again!

40 something drawing figurative art in kids naive style -yeap happy instagram. And you call that maturity, adulthood, evolution? Is that the luxury to know the kid -and beginner spirit with it- is always here? is that the luxury of resting your brain in just being, no judgements, no objectives, no comments? A luxury…. a luxury of letting go. A pen, a color, a paper, and that’s it. And yes I see the elephant laughing. I see the elephant pushing me into incoherent reactions. Fuck the elephant! All of them! As simple as that!

Motivation ?…

Can coaches motivate their clients? Can you motivate yourself when you do not see the point or the value added? Or… You actually see it. You see the stakes and the possibilities… And still you’re so far down the line you can’t even be bothered? Are they really possibilities then? Or simply another card hand dealt onto you for a game you do not even want to play…? And yes all that from a simple word… Motivation : a.k.a. Mind your Own Time Idea Validation Again To Inspire Others Now. Get cracking then and for things which really matters to you.

The elephant is back…

What to do when the elephant is back? Yes that famous imposter syndrome we turned into an elephant. See its visit as a simple reminder. A reminder to keep your focus. A reminder to keep the pace. A reminder to look for factual information confirming your skills and capabilities. A reminder to keep the drive. And then give it -yes the elephant- something to do, like a mouse to run away from, or a minor element to focus on. Distract it and keep your pace, one day at a time.

That famous imposter…

Here it is. There. Sitting in front of me on that black chair. It. That famous imposter syndrome. Looking straight at me. It has my eyes, darkened with shadows. It has my mouth, minus the smile. It has my height. And I can leave it like that, staring at me, eying me, kind of saying “really, you think you can…” with that mocking voice… Or? I can turn it into an elephant. Like a big fatty elephant, way too big for the black chair, struggling to fit in my clothes, the mocking voice like a high pitch trumpet. So fun then to say “Hi” to the elephant in the room.

Out of your head…

Can’t get something -or someone- out of your head? Try active imagination. Picture that thing -or person- in your head. With your hand or whatever come up to mind, go and picked up that thing -or person- right there where you see it in your head and extract it. It may stick a bit. It may resist the comfort and warmth of your thoughts. Go for it, extract it. And then drop it where it make sense, but in a place that is really of low importance. It can be far far away in another location. It can be right in front of you on a table as small as you want, ridiculously agitating arms and legs. It can be behind you in that space where old thoughts go dying. Anything works as long as you choose it, and it feels right to you. Once dropped, add anything else you want to make it disappear efficiently even faster. Happy active imagination!

Emotional surplus…

Not overload, surplus, real surplus. You’re extremely calm, quiet and posed. And still everything is on the edge… On the edge of your eyes, raw tears. On the edge of your throat, raw screams. On the edge of your fists, raw punches. And all free. Uncalled for. And trapped with nothing to express. Because you’re extremely calm… calm, quiet and posed. Pure emotional surplus. Too much production for the situation at hand. When you have it, use it. It’s easy to let it take over, pushing us into doubt. Take ownership. Focus. Acknowledge the surplus. Acknowledge the over production. And turn it into Gold. Convert it in raw energy. And drive it. Drive it hard. Invest it into something you really want. Once done, detox brain and body, with a good sleep.

Le choix des mots…

J’ai eu peur… mais tout n’est pas perdu… Quand l’EPFL décide de lancer une initiative pour encourager les filles à apprendre le code. Super. Fantastic. Quand j’apprends que ça s’appelle “coding for girls”… Aie… Je me dis “quoi ? Mais arrêtons de nous tirer une balle dans le pied. C’est un homme ou quoi qui a choisi ce nom…?” Alors petite recherche sur internet pour vérifier les sources et là je trouve le “coding club des filles”. C’est mieux, c’est mieux. On parle de club. Mais pourquoi tout de même un club exclusive? Pourquoi créer une séparation fille-garçons ? On aurait pu avoir “coding club for kids” “coding club for smart kids” “coding club des curieux” etc. Les premières féministes ont travaillé dure pour briser les clubs exclusives et nous permettre d’y rentrer, et voilà qu’on en crée de plus en plus, et de plus en plus jeunes ? En n’est-on vraiment encore que là ?

About Hunter and Gatherer…

I love how myths come about. Cool, right? Urban myth. Old folklore myth. Societal myth. Plenty to keep us busy and entertain. And here we are with this Hunter and Gatherer story. Right, that’s not a myth. Likely to be truly something we went through as part of evolution. Happy even to say without that step we would not be here to talk about it. But here is the myth still spread in corridors… “You see, we, men, we are visual beings, this is coming from the time we were Hunters, we needed to see; this is why we pay attention to appearance, we can’t help it…” and so, and son. Duh? Have you ever tried picking up berries? Have you ever tried making the difference between an eatable berry and a poisonous one? A different shade of blue is what may make the difference… yes, a different shade of blue and maybe a slightly different shape of leaves in the tree. Pfff… Thanks God, women are visuals, or clearly we would not be here to talk about it, all dead by ingestion of deadly nightshade… So when you come to an online dating app date with your tracksuit, revealing finally that your profile pics are from an unknown model who has nothing in common with you and your belly, don’t be surprise the ones who stays look for compensation in your wallet.

No pecs? No make-up?

Should we set expectations once for all? Or undo a myth? I mean, it’s true, depending where we work, there are many expectations on how we should dress up. And yes, it’s slightly disturbing that, when hiring for diversity, we do ask everyone to turn into one another with the same type of clothes or attitudes. It’s even more disturbing to know that many companies prefer using their employees’ brain power to manage wearing suits rather than to brainstorm and be creative in meetings. But let’s leave that aside for a moment, and let’s go back to basics…. Ladies, next time you hear a guys thinking out loud… “Yeah, you know, maybe you could put some make up, or wear something a bit more classy”… Turn around and checks the pecs… and maybe think out loud “Yeah, man, you know, maybe you could go to the gym in the morning, get the pecs (and belly?) a bit more classy”… Time to undo a myth -and yes more to come on that- we, ladies, have eyes and know how to use them.

La boîte aux lettres

Trois, quatre, voire cinq fois et plus je l ouvre. C’est simple, chaque fois que je passe devant, quelque soit l’heure, le moment de la journée ou de la nuit, avant ou après le passage du facteur… C est sans importance. Je l’ouvre. Elle et sa boîte à lait. Ah oui la boîte à lait, c’est un truc suisse, et là c’est rarement du lait qu’on y trouve, mais plutôt des petits paquets, des pubs, et souvent rien. Y a des gens qui traînent. Ils hésitent. Ils se forcent. Ils l’ouvrent à reculons cette boîte aux lettres. Mais pourquoi ? Binh oui, pourquoi? Alors oui, il y aura peut-être une facture -ou plusieurs… Mais aussi, peut-être une surprise…? La lettre d’un amoureux transit? La carte postal d’un ami perdu de vue? Une fourmi, perdue en ville, qui cherche son chemin et surtout un petit coup de main? On ne sais jamais… et ça, c’est fantastique.