A rare and striking flower

It's always great to see people recalling the honourable work of their predecessors.

Many of us (especially in the west) get caught in the cult of the new and innovative. And we often seem to do it at the expense of the legacies we inherit.

(If you are an academic you will be aware of this trend every time you look at a bibliography or footnotes; the proportion of new articles and books to old is often overwhelming.)

When we were in China a few years ago, we were struck by the depth of appreciation for the work of former generations. This revealed itself most often in the disciplines of fine artistry, construction and medicine.

It's quite a contrast to the way many Australians see things. One culture seems to 'add value' by underscoring the 'cutting edge' nature of its new technologies, while the other sees value as enhanced by heritage.

In many ways, the emerging China holds both these things together. With a deep appreciation for history, they are also pressing into a future which insists that they embrace innovation.

It's a challenging conundrum: how to move forward with full appreciation for the past while not being held captive to it.

Which shoulders do you stand on in your work? Your hobbies? Your philosophies? Your way of seeing the world? And how do you honour the good things of the past as you move forward?

Learning to look at things differently

So many things in life seem to pass us by.

We get familiar. We get used to. And we get bored.

We forget that perhaps there might be another angle presently escaping our perception, but begging to be noticed nonetheless.

We miss these alternative angles because we often don't have the eyes to see. We're too busy looking for what we expect to see.

Children have this ability; most of us adults (unfortunately) grow out of it. We see danger; they see opportunity. We see obstacles; they see stepping stones (my neighbour was showing me tonight how he barricaded his television set away from the kids - only to find that they use the barricades to climb on so they can get to the television).

Sometimes something turned a few degrees, or on its head, or in a reflection, or through a shadow, shows a different side of itself, and becomes a new tool for exploration; a tree becomes roots, and the water its earth.

Life is filled with such moments. Relationships, conversations, transactions, disagreements - all of them beg to be viewed from other angles (perhaps richer angles?) if we would but have the eyes to see. And the courage to believe that not all is as it seems at first glance.

Designs that weather the ages

Several years ago the BBC produced a truly excellent historical documentary series called 'Seven Wonders of the Industrial World'.

It was a treat to watch any one of the docos that made up the series. The historical accuracy of 'Seven Wonders' was owed to serious reliance on documents (especially journals) of the time. I highly recommend the series to anyone. It's history-telling at its best.

Probably the one I enjoyed the most featured the Bell Rock Lighthouse, located 18 kilometres off the east coast of Scotland. The challenges of building a sea-washed lighthouse 200 years ago were not insignificant.

Robert Stevenson (grandfather to Robert Louis Stevenson) and John Rennie (no known connection with this manufacturer of antacid tablets) were given the task of overseeing its design and construction.

There were, shall we say, a few creative differences between the two men (especially concerning the curve at the base of the lighthouse, inspired by Stevenson's appreciation of an oak tree holding up in a storm).

Nevertheless, the seasonally-based work commenced in 1807, and three years and 2500 interlocking granite blocks later, it was completed.

The lighthouse's masonry was of such high calibre that in 200 years it has never needed repair. The documentary captures well the frustrations and struggles, but also the vision and tenacity of Stevenson. I don't think the word 'noble' would be inappropriate to describe how he saw his work.

When I see workmanship like this, I wonder if the house we live in now will still be around in 20 years' time.

Like peaches and cream

Wood, metal and stone are a most agreeable combination.

I was out on the Nepean River this morning for a meeting with a client. As I was waiting for him to arrive, I took some time to wander around the landscape he had helped to create.

The combination of wood, metal and stone came together beautifully around the landscape perimeter. While it is certainly functional, it also had a rustic beauty to it: it was the meeting of basic, raw, earthy elements. And it works.

The nautical theme seemed to integrate well into the surrounds, even though we were a good hour away from the sea.

Perhaps you, like me, enjoy the atmosphere that lives around old wharves with their ancient steel-ringed turpentine pylons. I know this morning's landscape is not especially ancient, but the effect still works: metal, wood, stone. It's a timeless combination.

When Mark Thomson wrote his book on Australian BBQ's he also tapped into some of the same spirit with the book's title: Meat, Metal and Fire. Some things have always belonged together and always will.

Winning an argument

We've just walked through the process of returning some unsatisfactory goods purchased off eBay.

The item was a piece of child safety equipment, which was advertised as being ten years younger than it actually was. The condition of the piece was also slightly less appealing than the words which described it.

In these sorts of circumstances, it is easy for things to escalate very quickly, and for a war of words to erupt. Before you know it, you're in eBay Disputes.

Dale Carnegie once said the best way to win an argument is avoid it. I don't think he was saying 'Avoid conflict'; what he knew all too well is that when two people are shouting no one is listening anymore.

We had to find a way of (a) returning the seat (and quickly, as the seller told us he already had another buyer!); (b) getting a full cash refund; (c) expressing the reasons for our return of the item.

I think we both knew that the trickiest part would be (b): getting our money back.

Cara and I had a few good discussions all through the process about how to deal with a person who clearly didn't want negative feedback left, but who still had our cash and was trying to extract positive feedback out of us.

What was plain from the outset was that aggression was never going to achieve a good outcome. For anyone.

So instead we kept our cool, kept speaking calmly and with civility as we worked with him, kept referring to facts, tried to see things from his perspective (he didn't want the headache any more than us), and never referred to 'eBay Disputes' (which is an incredibly inflammatory term, whose mere mention heats up a conversation).

In the end, the item has been returned, we have our cash back, and the seller understands why we cannot leave him positive feedback (but he will at least get neutral for choosing to honour the refund, which we were grateful for).

It's a good outcome, I think. But I don't think there would have been any winners if we'd done the natural thing and followed our anger. It's good we had time to work through how we were going to respond.

Life doesn't always give us the luxury of that. So we need to act graciously and truthfully, seek wisdom, and hang on for the ride. And know there'll be times that we probably won't do any of those things well!

Windows of opportunity

Eureka! A brief window of opportunity to post - our wireless internet appears to be working for now. Better make the most of it.

Life is full of 'windows' like these: brief moments when we are given an opening into another possibility. And at that time, we either walk towards the opportunities or we walk away.

A window can be the coming together of a few friends. It can be an idea begging to grasped NOW. It can be like that time my dad drove my mother to the airport for her trip to New Zealand, and didn't come home (he decided to join her, as the rest of us discovered later that morning).

Life is full of windows of opportunity. If we expect opportunities to wait for us like wide open doors, we're likely to live disappointed lives. There comes a time to seize a moment, not even having enough time to fully process all the implications of walking into it.

Which window of opportunity is before you at the moment?

Carpe momentum!

Wireless is great - when it works

Our wireless broadband service has just about forced me to break my commitment to blogging daily.

At the beginning of the year, we signed on with Virgin broadband, and the whole experience that followed has been fraught with headaches.

Yesterday our broadband decided to stop working. Occasionally - just occasionally - you get a brief 30-second window and you have a network. And then it's gone again.

So if this blog doesn't appear at some stage, then you know I probably haven't been hit by a bus; most likely I've just been hit by very poor internet provision.

Maybe if I get desperate I'll cruise the street, laptop open on the seat next to me, hunting for an unsecured network so I can post the waffle you stay up to read each night. (Or else do the ethical thing and go find a Telstra Hotspot.)