It was my first year at university.  It was late January, and I had been in Chicago all of three weeks, slowly coming to terms with the unreal winter temperatures.   Barely 5 pm, it was already dark as I finished my last class of the day, and hurried back to the Lewis residence hall, where I shared a room with a business major from Japan.

The dorm lobby was always a shock of warmth, sofas and armchairs scattered in small groups, and at the far end, just before the low wall that separated the lobby from the cafeteria, was a piano.

A proper, real, grand piano.

And there, at that lovely, proper grand piano, a young man played and sang The Greatest Love Of All.  I didn’t know that’s what it was called at the time – in fact, I don’t think Whitney had recorded her version yet – but it was so beautiful, I remember pausing in my rush up to my room, then walking back and sitting down to hear the rest of it.

Incredibly, a young lady joined him, and started to sing with him. I remember thinking. ”Oh my God.  I’m in Fame!”

“Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all“, they sang.

What?? Are you kidding me? I mean, of all the selfish, self-centred things to sing about! Loving yourself is the greatest love of all? Puh-lease.

I remember thinking at the time that it was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.  I thought it was self-indulgent, embarrassing and pure and utter nonsense.

I mean, isn’t it a given? Don’t you need to care for yourself? How else are you supposed to get through life without a healthy dose of self-preservation, a good understanding of the essence that is your being, warts and all?

Apparently it isn’t a given.  In fact, it was not a given for those who choose to harm themselves rather than face life, who consistently opt for escapism, for drugs,  rather than enjoy their success.

Self-love and self-respect evades many of us.  From the nightmare that is peer pressure in our teens to the surreal world presented by television, glossy magazines, Facebook … there are plenty of opportunities to compare and decide we are somehow lacking.

So we complain.  We compare, and complain some more, pointing the finger back at ourselves, inwardly but inexorably blaming ourselves for not being whatever it is we think we should be, or worse, whatever someone else things we should be.

It’s only because of expectations that we are unhappy.  If you’re expecting a square and you get a circle, you’re unhappy.  But if you just expect a shape, whether a circle or square shows up, you’re happy nonetheless.

The greatest love of all is indeed the power to shape expectations in a way that removes judgement, so that you enjoy whatever life throws at you.

So that you enjoy being you in your life.

This week Whitney Houston joins the list of those we thought had everything going for them, yet ended up harming themselves.  She battled her own demons, was in and out of rehab, but in the end, the lure of chemically-induced unreality was too strong for her to resist.

She sang of The Greatest Love, but for her, it was, sadly, not so easy to achieve enough love of self to keep her away from the substances that ravaged her voice and the rest of her body.

Many years have passed since that cold January afternoon, when, for a brief moment, I thought i was on the set of Fame, and heard a beautiful song for the first time.

Yesterday, I started to learn how to play the same song on the piano at my weekly lesson. I finally stopped blaming my mother for not insisting that I stick with my piano lessons as a child, and started taking lessons late last year.  My teacher was looking for another piece of homework music when she came upon The Greatest Love Of All.

I do not expect to play it (and sing!) as wonderfully as the young couple in Chicago (there’s that whole sing-while-you play thing that’s well beyond me).

I do, however,  fully expect to enjoy the process of getting there – especially the bit where I get to subject my poor unsuspecting family to listen to me and say ‘Well done!’ or ‘Please stop!’

So hug your children and tell them how fabulous they are.  Pat your friend on the back and tell her how special she is.  Shake your co-worker’s hand and tell him how he helped you.

Then smile inwardly to yourself, and say “I’m awesome!”

And mean it.

Undeterred, she put on an extra pair of socks, and she started walking.  She walked the long, interminable 8 kilometers to school.  It took her nearly two hours, but she pressed on, her mother’s words on the importance of education ringing in her ears.  She was determined not to let a mere lack of transportation get in the way of her schooling.  Not even for one, cold, solitary day.

Today, she’s a C-level leader in a cut-throat industry, excelling at her craft, and raising two feisty boys, with the very same ethos that kept her warm on that long, cold walk to school.

Yet, would this highly successful leader choose this particular story to in a show-and-tell? Would she share this story on how deeply rooted her determination to succeed is?  Knowing her, probably not.  She would likely craft an interesting, politically correct, project turn-around story – a well-worn tale, predictable and expected.

Yet, of all the stories she has lived in time I knew her, the school story is the most compelling in illustrating her strength of character, her persistence, and her fierce determination to see something of importance through to its successful conclusion.  Somehow, with the background of the story, it all fell into place for me, a deeper understanding dawning on me about her, even though by this time we had been colleagues to start with and developed a close friendship that is still strong today, almost 20 years later.

How do we choose our story? Which one in our arsenal do we carefully pick out to share when are inviting others into our world, work or otherwise?  Those first couple of anecdotes, those glimpses into our past and what has shaped us, go a long way in painting a picture in the minds of our audience.

What story do we tell ourselves about our own self? Is it a story of triumph of the underdog or the misunderstood genius? Is it one of quiet leadership and loving strength? What picture do you paint to yourself about yourself?

Choose the right stories about you, your life and the essence of what makes you, well, you.  Stay away from the stories that compromise how you feel about you.  Amused laughter to self-deprecating pronouncements is just that – amused.  Is that the first, and possibly the only impression you wish for?

Choose the stories that make you strong, that resonate strongly with your core beliefs.

Choose your own true stories: the ones that are true in fact, and true to you.  You get to paint the picture, so choose wisely.

Choose the stories that serve you best, the anecdotes that truly reflect your nature, your purpose, and you.

So.  What is your story?

1. Silence of early, misty dawn
2. Earthy smell of rain
3. Tiny arms of a child wrapped around the neck
4. Unexpected greeting from a complete stranger
5. An old song triggering a happy memory
6. Finding forgotten money in an old pair of jeans
7. Getting an email from long lost friend
8. The strong jet of water in the shower
9. A long, enveloping bear hug from your partner
10. A kitten strutting across your path
11. A movie you’ve missed showing on TV
12. Shoes that feel like socks
13. A fit of giggles
14. A rainbow
15. Finding a forgotten picture in which you look amazing
16. Discovering twenty minutes have gone by on the treadmill, and you thought you just started
17. The last item on the rack, on sale at 70%, and it’s your size and colour
18. Hearing an old melody remixed to bring it up to date
19. Sleeping so deeply you wake up with no idea of what day it is
20. Getting a gift you actually wanted – and it’s a surprise
21. A piece of real, tasty strawberry in your ice cream
22. A parking space that opens up just as you pull up
23. The unique, fresh smell of a baby
24. Getting on a scale and finding you are much closer to your target
25. Freshly baked bread

What is your small amazing thing today?

Yet, I know it’s not age or sad state of bodily affairs whereby the physical keeps going south as the mental is continuously north-bound.  You see, this kind of loss of relevance can happen to anyone.

Just ask the new kid in the class.

The new kid, who was a football captain in his old school. He is now a nobody.

Or the new co-worker, who used to be the most gregarious in his previous place of work, and is now all but invisible.

Or the new neighbour, who used to host impromptu evenings most weekends, and now spends Friday nights alone, staring at four walls.

Or the family leader, who recounted stories of courage and bravery to a rapt audience, and now finds himself longing for a grandchild, a nephew, anyone, really, to spend more than a cursory and awkward ten-minutes with him.

It’s not about getting old.  it’s not about moving away from the familiar.

You see, staying relevant has so many dimensions.

It has to do with being aware of context, for relevance is meaningless without reference.

It means being attuned to nuances in the surroundings so you can update your impact on it.

It means recognizing the part can’t work in isolation, just like even a soloist needs to be aware of the backing orchestra.

Above all, staying relevant means you adjust.  It means you learn the new context.  Or perhaps the context has stayed the same, but the inhabitants have moved on (cheese, anyone?).

It means you improvise with an open mind.

My gut says, and I’m sure that there’s research somewhere out there to back it up, that staying relevant comes easy to the lifelong learner. I’m sure that staying relevant is second nature to those who observe and seek to merge new information with previous experiene to arrive at brilliant, newly relevant insights.

Just like the ex-football captain learns his new team’s play strategies, the twenty-something and sixty-something alike must continue to learn, to observe and integrate their understanding before scoffing off and dismissing new dynamics as fads that are unworthy of their time.

After all, weren’t we all once those impetous young teens that proclaimed to be misunderstood?

Learn.  Every day, and in every which way you can.  About life, nature, people, anything at all.  Just learn something new each day.  It is the one guaranteed way to stay relevant.

On the one hand, I was pleased I reached a weight goal that has eluded me for many years. On the other hand, I realized that that it had absolutely nothing to do with smaller goals along the way or completing specific, one-time tasks.

Similarly, a goal related to my work life was similarly achieved, almost despite the plans and preset milestones.

Both of these goals got a gorgeous, elated tick mark next to them because of one thing: practices.

Without these tiny, unassuming kittle daily practices that began populating my life, these goals, together with their lofty milestones and precise tasks just wouldn’t have even started.

What got me going were practices. Daily habits that I cultivated almost without noticing. Doing the same little thing ever single day without fail gave me the momentum to get past procrastination, to whiz right past self-doubt and tick away one box after another of completed milestones.

Here are some daily practices that helped me:

Morning quiet: I turned off music, radio and other noise to give my brain and subconscious a chance to surface all the solutions it had been ruminating overnight. Those 10 minutes (ok, half an hour) while getting ready in the morning are now a time when I feel at my most creative and subconsciously slot acting on those solutions into my day. There’s still plenty of time for morning radio fun on the commute to work.

One minute of exercise: sure 30 minutes is way better, but anyone can practice one minute in the morning. My choice is push-ups and squats as between them they hit most areas. Ten to fifteen of each, and not only does it circulation going and get you ready to jump in the shower, the accumulated benefit over time could well give nicely toned arms.

One real, deep conversation: it doesn’t need to be philosophical or solve the world hunger problem. It does, however , need to go beyond the usual script of work related laundry list, or home related logistics. Have a real, proper conversation with someone you see and interact with everyday, but this time turn off your automatic pilot. It gives me wonderfully new perspectives.

Read something, anything: this is my favorite practice. What started as a grim determination to get through my Google Reader inbox has become delightful fodder for my brain. I use a variety of tools to pick out quirky and interesting in-depth stories from around the web.

Each of these practices adds a little bit of a spark, brings in new perspectives, while the daily occurrence has an element of discipline.

Do share your daily practices in the comments.

As any kid in a new school or new neighbourhood will tell you, adapting to new circumstances and getting it right in the first week makes the difference between becoming the new, hip kid on the block, or one to be shunned, or worse, bullied.

You take your past,  check out the new parameters, and re-frame your story to fit the new reality, choosing a funny, slightly tragic slant.  The sweet underdog.

You take those curious looks and meet them with a defiant, unflinching stare.  You resist the temptation to be the first to break the ice, and respond with a cool, detached greeting when approached.  The ice princess.

You bounce into midst of your new environment, full of energy with a touch of mischief.  You take charge, and grinning from ear to ear, sweep everyone along with your sheer enthusiasm.  The life of the party.

There are so many ways we can choose to be when we first approach a new environment.  That’s the thing about new places, new schools, new jobs.  Nobody knows you.

Sure, the facts are there on your CV and the obvious physical aspects of you, but the way you present those facts is entirely dependent on how you, and only you, choose to present them.  Make no mistake, it is a choice.

I remember being at an event once, and someone asked me where I was from.  On a whim, I said Brazil.  The truth is, I’m not even from the same continent as Brazil, but for a couple of hours, I inhabited the persona of a Brazilian.  To be honest, all I really knew about Brazil is the wild carnival and awesome football national team.   The funny thing is no one questioned it.  Everyone at that event just assumed I was, in fact, from Brazil and responded to the “Brazilian” persona I was projecting.  It was great.

I don’t recommend fibbing about where you’re from, especially when your physical traits are a bit of a give-away (then you just come across as pathetic).  I do, however, recommend trying this re-invention thing.  There’s infinite freedom being someone else for a little while, just to try on how it feels.

Dress in a way you usually don’t and go somewhere you never do.  Take a vacation from your world and become Brazilian for an afternoon.

If you’re the suited-and-booted neutral colours corporate type, wear a multi-coloured kaftan and go to an art gallery.

Drive to a nearby city, and pretend you’re scouting for video shoot locations for your favourite band.  Wear dark glasses.

Yes, far fetched (unless my readers suddenly include famous artists with a pechant for kaftans …).  But still, just for a moment, admit it, you had gone off somewhere in your head, picking out which persona you could check out on quiet Saturday afternoon.  Or perhaps you were choosing the persona to be at your job interview next week, or how it might be fun to greet your spouse in a completely different way at the end of day tomorrow …

Madonna has made a career out of re-invention, and Lady Gaga’s daily dress-up keeps millions of fans guessing.  You don’t have to be a famous pop star or a kid to play dress-up, to re-invent yourself, see the world with a different set of eyes, and be seen in a different light.

Who knows, it might even re-define how you think about yourself and the world around you.  And kaftans.

Just on the other side of the midnight gong awaits a whole new life, full of kept promises, shiny goals, glittering new personas.

Then, January quietly slinks past, in a haze of post-holiday exhaustion and dreariness of going back to every day life.

February dawns with the realization that the lofty ambitions have disappeared into every day mundane logistics.  The new persona has once again left, disappearing into nothingness, each detail slowly fading with the weakening will power, leaving you stuck in the quicksand of habit.

Stuck, waiting and going through the motions  until the next round of lofty promises at the next birthday, new year, rite of passage, or just a bored afternoon.

Or not.

The power of choice is ours – so get unstuck, dust off those resolutions and have another go.

My snowman was small, perhaps a foot and half, and pretty skinny as snowmen go. I stuck the requisite carrot in for a nose, and paused to look over my shoulder.  A few of my classmates had teamed up to make their own snowman too.  Whether it was because I was new to the school, had a fallout with the other children, or was just being a diva … I can’t remember.  I can’t remember why I ended up with my own tiny snowman.  Fact is, there I was with my anorexic snowman 10 feet away from the other, huge, round communal snowman.

Yet, I don’t recall feeling in the least bit put out, left out or bad in any way.  I had my own skinny snowman and that was cool.  No pun intended.  After all, in those days cool just meant cold.

That scene in the snow covered school yard came back to me recently. It occurred to me than in this day and age of mass communication made easy, there are so many options of other snowmen teams to join.  Almost too easy.  Especially joining the team and passing ones’s self off as an original contributor.  It’s also become just as tempting to imitate, with blatant copying, not emulating being an every day occurrence.

Of course, it’s useful and even recommended to learn from those who have succeeded in areas that are important to us.  The key here is to learn and incorporate into our own individual landscape.  It does not serve us to change our entire landscape, our belief systems, our very own core to completely buy into some other way of being just so we can become identical to the ones we admire (Unless it’s Beyonce.  Or Lady GaGa.  Just kidding.  Or am I?)

Similarly, when choosing to collaborate, it’s important to differentiate between being a groupie who just wants some of that shiny stardust to rub off on her, and being a significant contributor who helps create the magic.  Because while there is strength in numbers, and innovation is often borne out of team work, there is absolutely no glory in hitching your wagon to someone else’s cart just because you can’t be bothered finding your own horse. And there’s even less glory in taking the polar opposite position just because it isn’t your horse doing the pulling.  Actually, the latter is downright malicious and wasteful.

So going back to that beautifully crispy cold day so many years ago, whatever my motivations, I chose to build my own version of skeletal snowman.  I snapped the carrot in half-ish as it was too big for my puny snowman (‘puny is my son’s favourite word for ‘insignificant’), added in a couple of small stones for eyes and the other half of the carrot stuck in horizontally for a rigid, unsmiling mouth.  Then, happy with my masterpiece, I continued playing during the rest of our break.

This year, I resolve to build more snowmen, even if the one across the road is bigger, better and shinier.  I resolve to listen to my inner artist and treat her as relevant and worthy of my efforts.  I resolve to resist the pull of the well-trodden path long enough to consciously discern whether it is going in my direction anyway or if I’m falling into the lure of the path of least resistance.

This year, I will take the time to make my own stardust and sprinkle it on top of my skinny (promoted from puny) snowman.  Right after I take the time to give my snowman a beautiful, well defined broad smile.

Happy 2011!

She said the secret was surrender to the experience.

She said clearing out an afternoon and devoting several quiet hours to this worthwhile endevour is what made this apple pie so very special.

This is something that I find difficult to do.  I need to get the end of whatever right now.  Even though the typical halwa recipe tells me it will take about 3 hours to cool, after cooking for 90 minutes, I’m already trying to figure ways to shorten the cycle, to make the process more efficient.

Even if you’re not an aficionado of Somali desserts, I’m sure you appreciate that there’s no such thing as a 30-minute halwa.  There some things you just can’t reduce to microwave-like expediency.

Apart from the time factor, there’s another aspect to my friend’s concept of surrendering to the experience.  It means you give your all to the experience.  It means you don’t multi-task, cut corners or in any other way try to dilute this time you have decided to dedicate to this project.  It means you don’t sacrifice effectiveness for the sake of efficiency.

Results often speak for themselves.  Whether your masterpiece is a sinful dessert, a compelling article, a Lego airplane, or an important project, your degree of surrender to the experience of crafting it will be written all over the final outcome.

Contrary to popular sentiment, I don’t believe it’s all about the journey.  It’s equally about the journey and the destination, because they are so inescapably linked.  Focusing only on the journey, the time spent, the experience without regard to the ticking clock and the desired destination means you might learn and grow, but you might also continue to meander aimlessly if not advancing inexorably towards an important result.

Similarly, focusing solely on the outcome and bulldozing through the process of making happen could mean not fully owning the result, and potentially opening the door to recriminations and regret when the apple pie comes out a gooey mess.

The difficulty lies in figuring out when to surrender and take our time, and when it would serve us best to adopt the microwave approach.  I’m still convinced I can train for a 10k marathon in 3 weeks. I’m still deluding myself that if I look hard enough, I’ll find microwaveable halwa.  Yes, you could say I’m in denial.

But what I absolutely know without a shadow of a doubt is that if I do choose to surrender to the training experience, if I elect to plan my half-a-day halwa cooking adventure, the results will be far superior to the efficiency-driven outcomes I feel pressured into by having too many “masterpieces” on the go at any one time.

So here is the question: do you know which one of your on-going masterpieces is missing surrender as its secret ingredient?

Watching the final episode of Grey’s Anatomy, I wondered yet again – do the actors really know what’s going to happen, or do they simply get the script just in time for rehearsals and shooting?  Presumably they would need to have the script  far enough in advance to be able to learn it,  but late enough so that the emotion is still raw, the surprise still somewhat … surprising.

I couldn’t help but think of about our own highly “scripted” days – where the mundane must-do, must-see, and must-be items are so tightly packed together that there’s little room to accommodate any surprises.  Like traffic – not that that’s a surprise in Dubai.

It can get even worse.

You see, often the other actors in our unwritten life script decide to improvise.  Like start to read from next week’s script, or suddenly choose to play a different role. “What, you didn’t the memo email?”

So I’m wondering.  How much of our daily script do we write? How much do we borrow from the perennial must-do list? From someone else’s script?

Do we even write a daily script? Do we rehearse it in our head, think of what we will do, say, feel? Do we visualize the moment, the impact, the thrill, the gritting of the teeth, the soaring triumph?

Or do we , like the cast of Whose Line Is It Anyway,  let the audience decide the plot for us?

Write your own hit reality TV series.  Starring you, and only the characters you want.  Include a villain or two so you can flex your adversity muscles and triumph over the odds.

Don’t forget to write in the traffic scene –  it’s the perfect spot to place the flashback to that awesome win last year or a flashforward to your woohooo moment later in the day.

It’s your life. Get scripting!