At 4.28, I hear a sound from downstairs. It’s a familiar sound in our house, but I feared that the slight deviation from the norm spelt (or in this case smelt) danger, albeit in morse code. “C” had been a bit off for the last few days. He is a good dog, very well trained by the wife. Irrespective of what time of the day or night it is, in true Pavlov’s dog fashion, if he needs water, he will nudge the keys in the back door. Same applies for toilet stops.
However, last night before I went to bed, I took the keys out of the back door and put them on the side (I guess in preparation for our imminent departure from New to Old Brighton). Without the signal, what else could he do. It was the intermittent pauses in Fred Astaire type footsteps which sold the notion that he was in fact emptying every recess of his unsettled bowels on the (thankfully) the laminate flooring.
I didn’t count, but in a fashion similar to one of his now infamous ‘protest poo sessions’ there were many more than 10 deposits, a few less than triple digits.
Instead of shouting, I quietly put him away in his cage (with a bit of calming reiki on his noggin) and got on with the job of tidying up, mopping the entire ground floor level of the house, which saved me the job of doing it before my vacation.
As for my dream that night, it must have been cheese induced. Who in their right minds would dream of having illicit relations with Mariella Frostrup in a virtual reality roller coaster, with the disembarkation point being the living room of their nan’s house.
And so back to the land of the living. The utter lack of sleep and the lack of overnight feedback from the Big Man resulted in some serious temple pain. I guess it mat have been borne of the fact that I had not had much sleep, and dinner last night was instead replaced with a handful of Mis-shapes from Cheshire Oaks which were still taunting me every time I opened the fridge door.
It was around 2pm that I got a ping off the boss stating that with the exception of a few points we were good to go and he was really happy with the end result. After frantically typing away his updates for 45 minutes, it was quite literally ‘The End Complete’ around 3pm. There was a sense of euphoria. There was a sense of relief. Knowing that I could vacate the office space for nine days with this chapter closed would mean that I could focus on what really matters to me.
The force of me shutting the lid of the laptop at 5pm may well have resulted in a broken screen, but that is something I will deal with on the 29th July. My next mission (which I chose to accept) was to tear-arse over to Liverpool One to purchase some goodies for the missus for her birthday this weekend. Goods acquired, I felt the slow release of positivity as I settled down with a frozen Starbucks watching the sun starting to set across the Albert Dock. Its times like these that one can reflect not only on the history of the place, but to take in the energy of the sun and become more at peace (but for the lagered up ‘exiters’ from the Bierkeller behind me atop the Chevasse park steps).
Once back at the ranch, it was time to start packing for the trip. Mood candles (which may never get used), check. Running gear (which may never get used), check. Reiki manual (which may never get used), check. Roller blades (which may never get used), check.
Looking back over the last few days, I could be disappointed in the lack of consolidation of reiki, as too much of life has got in the way. That said, in the reiki manual, there is a snippet which reminds us:
The secret art of inviting happiness.
The miraculous medicine of all diseases.
Just for today, do not anger.
Do not worry and be filled with gratitude.
Devote yourself to your work and be kind to people.
So I was not angry about work, I was I guess, slightly frustrated with progress, but appreciative that people have other priorities. In days gone by, I would have been slagging people off left right and centre calling them fit to burn, but not now. I have devoted myself to my work, and the fruit of my loins has now been distributed to those that need it.
In short, this has probably been the most important piece of work I’ve ever done at Shell. The previous me would have been lying awake at night, worrying constantly about whether my outputs were good enough, the consequences if they were not and most importantly what people would think of me. Not this time. With a different mindset, a different attitude, the levels of stress and anxiety were just not there. Yoga helps. Reiki helps. It may be my fact, but it’s fact…