I heard a curious story from a friend about a chap in his local pub.

This chap would stand at the bar - pint in hand - and his whole body would sway back and forth like a hypnotist’s pocket watch.

And no.  He wasn't 4 Neck Oils deep into a merry old drinking session.

In fact, this chap was swaying at the bar before a pint had touched his lips.  And he hadn’t come from another pub.  

So the swaying wasn’t alcohol induced at all.

Instead, this chap was a pump technician.  He worked for weeks on offshore oil rigs. 

Oil rigs which would sway from side to side as the sea and wind lashed against them.

So he wasn’t swaying because he was sozzled.  He was swaying because he was still attuned to the rig.

A couple of weeks later and he'd acclimatised back to his normal, steady self.

This reminded me a lot of my own “acclimatisation process” when I worked in banking.

I remember feeling uncertain after promotions or when I joined a new team.  Or even beginning a project or working with a new colleague.

I’d always need some time to find my bearings.

Which felt uncomfortable. 

It led to an uneasiness.  A quiver in my stomach.

Just like swaying at the bar, this was my own acclimatisation process.  It was my body reacting to my new environment.

Only it wasn’t just my body.  

My mind would go like gangbusters too, racing through possibilities and scenarios.  Trying to piece things together.  And trying to convince myself that everything would be okay.

Of course, there are always situations like these which prompt confusion, uncertainty or doubt.  But I probably could’ve handled these situations better.

Because what I see now is this:

Wrestling with these thoughts and feelings - or trying to bury them - just made them more intense. 

Instead, I could've noticed them without wrestling with them.  They would've moved on quicker this way.  And more positive thoughts and feelings would start to replace them.

I’ve heard this idea described as similar to the way a birdwatcher interacts with birds.

You’re the birdwatcher.  Your thoughts and feelings are the birds.

Some birds fly straight across your view. They go as soon as they come.

Others will land and peck around.  Maybe have a nap. 

And when this happens, the birdwatcher doesn’t leave his spot to wrestle with the bird.  Or load his gun to take a shot.

Instead he watches the bird with a gentle curiosity.  Then maybe relaxes his gaze.

And suddenly the bird leaves and a new bird arrives.

Just like our thoughts and feelings.

And if I’d had a lighter relationship with my less positive thoughts and feelings, they might not have stuck around for as long as they did…

Those “acclimatisation periods” might’ve passed more quickly…

And work might’ve been a bit more fun.

So that’s my two pennies' worth for today.

I’m off to brave the snow for a run.

Catch you tomorrow.

- Tom

p.s. Whenever you're ready, here are the ways I can support you