non specific selective forgetfulness

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I notice sometimes names escape me.

I’m not referring to a gradual onset of forgetfulness or dementia (I hope) but rather to certain names. Why is that?

At work there are a few people who, every time I meet them I struggle to recall their name. Other people I know less well I have no problem recalling their name, but for some reason it escapes me for a few. Then I notice I can’t remember, so that next time I see them approaching I’m already thinking ‘I can’t remember your name’… and so I can’t.

But it’s not just people. I was listening to some music today in the car and a particular band came on from my playlist. A band I like. A band I listen to on occasion. But I can never recall the names of the tracks.  I don’t have the problem with other music, just some. Why is that?

Actors and actresses too. Some, no matter how good their performance or regardless of the quality of the film, I simply can’t put a name to the face.

Maybe it’s about connection? Emotional or otherwise?

What makes us selectively ‘forget’? And what holds us in that pattern?

giving it out and bringing it back

rapport

We all get on with some people more than others. Sometimes we just click immediately. Sometimes the connection develops over a period of time. But what is rapport?

But when we have a rapportful relationship we know it. We are drawn to it.  We enjoy experiencing it.

Its origins as a word seem to be French – rapporter – to bring back, or return, and a definition might be…

a state of harmonious relationship in which the people or groups concerned understand each other’s feelings or ideas and communicate well

So maybe rapport is simply about giving and receiving? Giving some of ourselves; our ideas, thoughts, emotions and being open to others’ ideas thoughts and emotions in return. Where these connect or overlap, we have rapport.

Sounds easy.

Of course we have to know enough about ourselves, and be open-hearted and generous enough, to be able to authentically share what our feelings, thoughts and ideas are . And we have to be present enough and care enough to hear what is reciprocated.

Maybe that’s why it isn’t always so easy?

 

separation

  
Watching Motorsport at Donington Park today.

I’m sitting on a hill in the infield looking at the old hairpin. Cars are weaving down the Craner Curves, jostling for track position into this all important corner.

Meanwhile, I’m listening to the race commentary on the circuit app on my phone. The commentary covers the action elsewhere on the circuit. So I can listen to the incident at Redgate where two cars have entered the gravel trap.

When we go racing we take a camping stove and I’m tucking in to a freshly made egg and bacon roll. The soft yoke has just exploded across my fingers. The smell and taste a sensory delight.

The sun is warming my right ear.

I’m struck by my ability to separate my senses. To see one set of action, hear another, feel the sun and direct my olfactory and gustatory senses to a stomach welcoming culinary classic.

Maybe separating our senses is easier than focusing them all on the same experience? We do it every day.  I do wonder what I’m losing as a result though?

the curse of three

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I threw a cup of tea over myself today.

This afternoon I nearly did it again, but this time only a few splashes landed on the same shirt I had dried out only hours earlier.

That completes the curse of three. Earlier this week I tripped on the stairs carrying a tea without a lid and the hot tea cascaded over my hand, burning me, as well as creating a slip hazard on the stairs, which I limply attempted to mop up with the remains of a toilet roll from a nearby facility.

Three teas – one week.  Impressive huh?  They say ‘bad luck comes in threes’.  I don’t know who ‘they’ are in that sentence.  But whoever ‘they’ are, that’s what ‘they’ say.

I wonder if, unconsciously, the existence of that ‘rule’ creates the reality. Having spilled a tea, does my brain go – hang on a minute, one isn’t enough, we need to comply with the curse of three rule?  Let’s make the body stumble twice more, that way this dope can continue to believe in that rule about bad luck coming in threes…

I wouldn’t put it past my head to do that.

Or maybe it’s a form of that thing we call confirmation bias?  The notion that I will notice only the things that confirm my beliefs or hypotheses. Maybe dropping my first tea creates a hypothesis that I’m getting clumsy or a belief that teas without lids are dangerous?  So I notice the other two tea incidents. Maybe there was a fourth episode or a near miss I’ve somehow deleted?

Anyhow… everything is fine now.  In case you cared.

I have done it thrice. My curse of three is done.  I now believe it won’t happen again, so whether it be confirmation bias, or the bad things rule, I’m done.

Cuppa anyone?

wonky is in

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We were browsing a farm shop the other weekend.

I stumbled upon this crockery.  I confess to quite liking it.  Its quirkiness. Its imperfection. Its originality.  Off-set bowls, bendy plates…

Strange how ‘wonky’ is on trend again.  For years our supermarkets have discarded imperfect fruit and vegetables so that we only get straight carrots, nicely shaped ‘nodule-free’ potatoes, uniform apples.  Now, suddenly, it’s OK to have twin parsnips joined at the hip or a slightly more bent cucumber.

Wonky crockery. Wonky fruit and vegetables.

I wonder if we can begin to embrace wonky people?

Wonky because they look different? Wonky because they believe different things? Wonky because they have disabilities? Wonky because they have abilities we (society) forget to value? Wonky because they don’t conform to the cookie cutter of acceptability?

the wisdom of the credits…

ericandernie

How is it that the sun makes us feel good?

I’m ignorant here but I’m sure there are physiological reasons; warmth, light, vitamin creation etc., but also psychological and emotional reasons.

I’ve just been looking out the window at a sun drenched plaza.  People are sitting on steps, eating, drinking, standing, chatting, walking purposefully. The trees are showing their first signs of bud. The colours on the brick built cathedral stunning. The shadows evocative. The light glorious. The mood inviting.

I’m inside.  I can’t feel the warmth; the sunlight isn’t landing on me directly and the sun isn’t being overly energetic with any chemical in my body… and yet just gazing at the scene makes me feel good.  Bring me sunshine…

Eric and Ernie were right.

the mystery of trust

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Recent media frenzy about well known people and their financial affairs seems to carry with it a cloak of significance way beyond a few thousand pounds of tax liability.  This isn’t really about David Cameron’s tax return or Gianni Infantino’s true knowledge, this is about a deeper, more intangible thing.  A thing which carries great weight, even though we can’t see it, hear it or touch it … trust.

Trust in our institutions has been declining.  The Edelman Trust Barometer evidences this. Trust in government, organisations, leaders has in some cases recovered recently after years of decline.  Buy, as the Dutch say…

Trust arrives on foot but leaves on horseback

Hard to win, easy to lose.

Yet in much of our lives we show huge trust. We happily buy on the internet from organisations we know little about, who often have no physical presence. Sometimes we make those choices based on ratings from other consumers, who we’ve never met, will never know, without awareness for their context… yet we trust their reviews. We book rooms on AirBNB. Rooms in people’s houses. Happy to stay with a complete stranger often on the basis of a few positive comments from previous guests. All on the face of it, significant leaps of faith and dripping in this thing called trust.

In some contexts it’s so important. We like to be trusted and to show trust. Sometimes trust is so easy to gain, yet often easy to lose, and hard to re-gain.

We seek it like an elixir.
We value and covet it like gold.
It unlocks so much, like a magic key.
And we can feel so incensed, so emotive, when we feel trust has been betrayed or lost.

Strange that something so hard to define, so intangible, is so real?