May All Your Glimmers Be Bright!
Todays blog is from Scott Leiper, who is the Creator at Imaginocity & The Learning Lab and is connectable via https://www.linkedin.com/in/scottleiper/ and found at https://thelearninglab.co.uk/
I am taking the point of “its time to change” to move away from the mince pies and focus on something more healthy. Well, its a goal at least! Enjoy this brilliant blog and as usual, please share your reflections on LinkedIn. Thanks, and over to Scott.
I thought I was good at spotting light. Those fleeting golden dazzles that make the ordinary extraordinary. These micro magical moments calm our nervous system and remind us that the answers are often within. They remind us that we are human; moments pass us by, but usually we don’t slow down to become more present. Honouring Daniel's theme choice, it is time to change - If we can spot what triggers stress, then glimmers are the fireflies that hone hope. I pray my words today get you glimmer fishing for your inner greatness.
Light glimmering through trees
As I said, I thought I was good at this until my glimmer-o-meter was recently awoken by a lightning bolt from the brilliant author Gavin Oattes in his stunningly honest new book, Confidently Lost. I wanted to use this Advent blog to offer my Christmas gift to him, and indeed to you as a potential fan and reader.
In his book, you’ll discover, Gavin, like us all, does get stuck in mud, but when he throws out a literary lifebelt - it’s got fairy lights and fizz bombs attached, deliciously lighting up everyone that comes within a millimetre of the page.
In addition to being a talented author, Gavin is also a fabulous speaker, leader, Father, friend, husband, brother, and son. I know he is richly gifted in all these areas, as I spent a few hours in the company of many of his family and friends at his recent book launch, where I hosted his Q&A. Each endorsed what this remarkable man brings to the world and the human glimmer he is to each of them.
His suggested Glimmer Tracker inspired me to write down my daily practice of spotting them, taking a moment to sit with them, and celebrating these happy human sparkles. Here’s my current day-by-day captures for 11 days up until the point I submitted my blog to Daniel:
Day one: A stranger poured me a 16-year-old Lagavulin Malt Whisky on the train to toast the birth of his first Grandchild. We chatted about his military service in Bosnia and what life had taught him whilst gently sipping the Smokey heat.
Day two: Took my son to see King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, a brilliant Aussie band, and I saw a girl dressed in a full lobster costume, complete with pincer hands – full commitment, rocking out with the incredible, weird swarm.
Day three: I watched a guy open a flask of boiling water, pour it into a plastic tub and reheat his poached eggs on the train to have with his pre-toasted bagel. I’ve never been so jealous as I nibbled on a Kellogg’s cardboard cereal bar.
Day four: I found a rogue red peanut M&M waving at me from the back of the cupboard. I swear it spoke, “Scott’s home early”.
Day five: I was on a call to my friend Rory and found an old empty Irish Whiskey bottle called The Good, The Bad & The Smokey”. Popped the lid to see if I could still smell it two years after its expiration, and bingo, one measure was left!
Day six: Buying a new laminate floor. The salesman was selling the benefits of deeper, deeper-density underlay. His method was to tap a golf ball on a stick off the planks with the underlay options beneath. He didn’t just tap; he played "Knick, Knack, Paddy Wack" and then gave me a go. I tried Doe-A-Dear and failed miserably in joyous rapture.
Day seven: I was hosting a Q&A at Gavin’s book launch and had missed dinner, so I honoured Gavin's simple pleasures of a crisp sandwich. Went to Morrisons for a proper crunchy roll and carefully selected a flavour like a surgeon choosing his tools. I went Woooooouuuucesssstershire sauce, munched my way through happiness on a bench by the beach.
Day eight: Never seen a young guy be so committed to the features and benefits of brushed brass curtain poles in Dunelm stores, Kilmarnock. I now believe Darren, the sales assistant, is the answer to reversing the death of the High Street.
Day nine: My Dad gave me his extra Ghillie cup. Hugged me and said, “I’ll never hill walk again, but you will, son, Slàinte”
Day ten: The perfect mitre cut on a skirting board after 12 attempts. If my joinery brother could see cuts 1-11, we’d never speak again.
Day eleven: Autumn leaves brightening up a dull pathway in a derelict part of town.
So, if you haven’t yet invited Gavin, or Glimmers for that matter, into your life, here’s why I think his marvellous meandering moonbeams, and his celebration of the glimmer, should matter to more people and indeed to you.
Every last drop; every word of Gavin’s is a moment of a marvellous mind meets paper, and we can boot doom in the haw maws if we don’t life just so seriously. Tracking glimmers untaps more joy, and shared joy is double joy.
He gives lots of shits about SHIT that really matters. Glimmers matter. Life matters. Life glimmers if we look.
He cares about humanity, hilarity and the need for a healthy dose of profanity. A smile, a laugh, a hug, a kind word travels miles; your inner glimmer shines on others and dulls the darkness of the world's big chief grumpy pants.
Gavin has a head crammed with positive kernels silently simmering before they explode joyfully into the world. We all have ideas, insights, and ways we can make our world a better place. Share and celebrate the joy of others; it’s a wonderful currency to trade in.
He can dually gear between the sadness and struggles of mental health with celebrating the joyful youthful glimmers of excessive sweetcorn in your jobby. Okay, maybe this one is unique to Gav!
Gavin, like all of us, sometimes gets confidently lost, but by within a wee healthy slice of Gavin and glimmer, we can discover our true self.
And the best thing… You can glimmer with Gav anytime you like.
Go shine. May all your glimmers be bright ✨