A Leaky Face and Moist Bread
It’s 4:30am and my sourdough buddy is breathing quietly beside me, having spent the night in a slow final proof in the fridge. Not sure if it knows what’s coming, but they are taking it well if they do. I hope I’m that serene when my time comes. Bread-making takes patience and that has been my theme this week, being patient with myself.
As much as I’ve worked hard to ‘manage’ it effectively, the last few weeks have seen my stress levels build and build. I know myself well enough to walk hand-in-hand with the natural responses to significant change. For me, the releasing process takes some time, though there have been moments when huge chunks of ice have calved from the glacier.
Making the choice to stop commuting from the Bay of Plenty to Auckland and to take a bit of a break is 100% the right thing for me, but it brings with it a lot of internal processing requirements and I have been maxing out CPU from time to time.
There were particularly important tasks to complete that I held my breath for. Whilst I’m proud of completing my handover To Do list in good time and to a high standard, my stomach twisted more about finding and delivering the right words to those I care about. I have no problem standing in front of a hundred or a thousand people, but who they are matters.
Finding a gift and the words to thank my daughter for her relentless support in hosting me most weeks only involved an audience of one, but getting it right mattered a lot. I used both sides of the card’s inner blank space. I don’t hold with the idea that blood is thicker than water, our relationships are as good as we choose to make them, family or otherwise. Our adult children don’t owe us anything by right. It is always a privilege to experience the generosity and kindness of a loved one and I needed to share what it has meant to me.
Next came the team. Every Monday morning, we gather as a business to share updates on what we’ve done and what we’re about to do. This last Monday was my last Monday. Having been invited out for a coffee suspiciously close to the meeting time, I set aside any desire to ponder its meaning deeply and just enjoyed time with a friend. Returning to find a poster on the door with my face on it was definitely not on my ‘probable’ list.
The next forty-five minutes or so were a mix of the usual and the unusual. Delivering the words I had prepared was important enough to have me stand still for a moment and draw breath before beginning - no easy, witty quips this day. I believe in speaking to your audience. If you lose or confuse them, what’s the point? When your audience is full of people you have come to care so much about, it is no easy task to thank and farewell them.
Yes, there were moments that I had to pause and regather, pull back in order to move forward. There were blocks of meaning, coalesced messaging about what matters most - he tangata, he tangata, he tangata. I finished by offering my thanks in every language I could think of being relevant to this amazing team. If you don’t know how to say thank you to each person in your team in at least one of their own languages, do something about that.
One of my ‘work-ons’ as an adult has been to be OK with people saying nice things about me, to really hear their words. I got some practice this day, which I am truly grateful for.
By the time we got to my farewell dinner, much of the weight had been lifted from my shoulders. A huge treat was having my daughter and my partner join this group of lead team direct reports for some fabulous food and conversation. This was honestly just perfect. A table full of people who had contributed so much to my journey over the last two years. I am passionate about diversity delivering a richer, more rounded and robust experience, so seeing this group in this context was a joy. Nothing draws a group together like delicious food and laughter. I felt the aroha in the room, I felt at home, I felt content. Having coached a number of sprint relay teams, the smooth passing of the baton still brings a tear to my eye.
Behind the scenes, a lot of processing continued. I have never taken a ‘break’ like this before, with a couple of little holidays planned. Even when you choose to make the change, there is grief to work through at the end of a great role. Anyone who has lost a loved one, knows that all the tasks that need to be done can leave you having to catch up with the feelings of loss later. The same delayed reaction applied here. I have slept a lot during the daytime, have just allowed my body and mind to rest, making space for recovery.
Stretched out on the sofa one evening, I found my face starting to leak. By then, I was ready to hear it, the quiet acknowledgement of all the effort, all the challenges, all the aroha, all there is to be let go - good job, now rest and restore my friend.
I am a granddad by association and love it. A morning looking after our gorgeous granddaughter places me firmly where I need to be, in the here and now - actively present. This break is not about doing nothing, it’s about having the freedom to choose what I do when. Unsurprisingly, I have a long list, though there are clear priorities and scheduled punctuations.
Activities started off with a great Institute of Directors governance CV workshop yesterday, then we’ll be cheering on the Football Ferns at Forsyth Barr stadium this Sunday and I can’t wait for September’s wee road-trip. Of course, in between, there is work to be done - this is not retirement!
There is a rhythm to baking bread - it, like time engaged with a little person only just finding her words and feet, grounds you. These days, it’s sourdough for me. Is there a better smell to fill your kitchen with? You have to be present to the process, feel the changes in the dough, sense when it is ready. Right now, the air around me is warm and thick with promise, my nostrils are twitching in anticipation. I’m excited to learn what the combination of my efforts and the magic of processes beyond me will bring… Sounds about right :-)