Decisions, decisions

About half a year ago I pompously announced a deadline and a challenge I had set for myself here. To my shame I have to admit that I am still far away from reaching my goal of 3 paid publications by mid-November, because the number of published articles or short stories equals … zero!

How could that happen?

I believe now that the most important prerequisite to get creative work done is focus: focus on one project at a time. I love writing and I want to get things published, but I’ve found that I get distracted too easily. There are so many interesting things to see and do out there, which is great, but I realised that at one point I would have to make a decision what to concentrate my efforts on.

Last weekend I had a discussion with a friend about goals in life, what we wanted to achieve and how we thought we were going to get there. He is an aspiring photographer and dedicates most of his money and free time to buying new equipment, organising shootings and getting better at what he does. He focuses entirely on this one thing and the improvements in his work have been remarkable. The next step would be to quit his day job and try to make a living as a full-time photographer. And this is where the decision comes in: he has a background in IT and is also thinking about becoming a project manager, which would give him considerable financial security.

“But don’t you think you can do both?” I asked him, “I mean, why does it always have to be either the one or the other, artistic or corporate career? Don’t you think it’s possible to be successful in more than one thing at a time?”

He shook his head. “No. Look at the people who really stick out in their field, they are entirely committed to their craft and exercise it 24/7. This is how you become extraordinarily successful, otherwise you are just going to be mediocre at everything.”

What he said made sense, and it occurred to me that this might be the reason why he had progressed in the past six months whereas I felt I hadn’t. Sure, I’d written a couple of short stories, continued my novel, written a sinopsis for a travel book, … but at the same time I’d tried to do embroidery, learn about organic gardening, cook a healthy meal each day, meet new people at the weekends, make the most of living in London, and all this had led to my focus being distracted.

Lesson #1: It’s probably about time I took a decision: the decision to focus on doing what I love.

According to this blog post by Chris Guillebau of “The Art of Non-Conformity” deadlines do help in getting things done, and insofar it hadn’t been the worst strategy when I set myself the above mentioned goal in November last year. However, I now think it wasn’t set very cleverly.

First of all, I wasn’t specific enough. What did I want to have published? Short stories, articles, a novel? What did I want to write about? Who was I going to address?

Secondly, the goal was only measurable insofar as in a year’s time I would either have three things published, or not. What about the steps in between? It might have helped to break the one big goal down into smaller benchmarks.

Also, was the goal really achievable in the sense that I had full control over the outcome? I don’t think so. If I was unlucky, or maybe not as talented as I thought I was, I could have sent off three stories a month without a positive reaction. However, the one thing I would have had control over would have been to actually write these stories.

Then the deadline was too far away to be relevant. 12 months is a long time and I think it would have been better to break them down into smaller periods of three or four months, e.g. I want to have written a short story and sent it off to a competition by mid-January, which connects back to the aim being measurable.

If I now went for the creation of SMART goals as it is taught in sales training I would conclude with the question whether my goal was timely. However, I’ve found another interpretation for the “T” that I like much more: touchable. What will I have to hold as a completed result? And that leads me back to the conversation with my friend. He said what helped him immensely in motivating himself was to imagine what his life would be like if he achieved his goal. What would it feel like to hold a copy of my first travel book in my hands?

Lesson #2: Set reasonable goals.

Finally, and this goes back to Chris’ blog entry, if you don’t achieve your goal despite all efforts it might be about time to consider walking away and admitting that it hasn’t worked out. But only once the effort has been made.

Have you set yourself a goal, have you already achieved it, or have you failed? What are your thoughts on this?

Favourite Places (2): The British Museum

I love artefacts of ancient times, they carry stories. The British Museum is full of them, a temple of stolen items, conserved behind glass, lit in the most favourable light. You could spend months in there before you get the feeling that you might have seen it all – and then, still, it’s most probably not true.

The fantastic thing is: it’s free, like most museums in the UK. That means that on a rainy Sunday afternoon I can decide to just spend an hour or so strolling through the Korean section, looking at African boats and admiring Afghan textiles without the pressure of having to see it all at once.
The so-called Eye Opener Tours – free of charge! – are highly recommendable. Each of them is only 45 minutes long, and of course they can only cover a tiny bit of the whole material exhibited, but they give you an understanding of the stories behind some of the artefacts, and these are fascinating.

It might be true that, as the items are displayed out of context, they lack vividness, being deprived of their natural surroundings. I partly agree. But if you make the effort to understand their background the screen in your mind can take you to all sorts of times and places without you actually moving.

Breakfast with … components

Thanks to Simone Naumann of “components” for having me for breakfast this Sunday!

Favourite Places: Brockwell Park

London is great for its parks, and I think that I’m particularly lucky as one of the nicest ones is just down the road from where I live. Brockwell Park has quickly become the green oasis of my life, my nature sanctuary where I take refuge when I feel like I can’t take the hectic rush of London life any more. First of all, there is this really nice yoga studio. It’s actually a fitness studio, but I only ever go there for yoga classes. Through the big glass windows of the room you can see the blue lido, which was particularly nice when it snowed in London a few weeks back.

An unusual sight: Brockwell Lido in the snow

I also really do appreciate the strong sense of community that has developed around the park and I think that’s probably why people in general like living in the area. London can seem like a tough and unforgiving place sometimes, but in Brockwell Park I always get the feeling of being in the right place. There is a nice group of volunteer gardeners managing the Brockwell Park Community Greenhouses, and I sometimes join them on a Sunday afternoon.  They grow fruit and veg in the city and teach children as well as adults about nature and plants.

Veg beds at the Greenhouses

The Friends of Brockwell Park are another group of volunteers who are concerned with the conservation of this green space. It is something that strikes me as surprising that every park in England seems to have a “group of friends” (even Clapham Common – ppphhh!).

A fine day in Brockwell Park

In Brockwell Hall at the highest point in the park there is a little café where they serve the loveliest cakes. It’s great to sit outside in the sun and have a coffee on a nice day.

The Café at Brockwell Hall

Nearby Herne Hill has more the feel of a village rather than that of a random area in a big city. I reckon this is probably due to the picturesque market street just outside the railway station. There is a farmer’s market every Sunday which is great for shopping because you get to talk to the people. I did most of my Christmas shopping there and at this occasion had a nice chat with photographer Max Rush who has taken plenty of amazing shots in and around Brockwell Park. I’ve just learned that he was one of the finalists for the International Garden Photographer of the Year awards and I’m really pleased for him. Well done!

The life of my grandmother

Today my grandmother died. She was a remarkable woman and I loved her very much.

She had lived through the Second World War, married a farmer and raised seven kids. At some points in her life she faced a degree of material poverty that I can hardly imagine. Until today she didn’t possess a lot, but to me she never seemed poor at all because she didn’t need more than she had. I respected her immensely for this natural frugality.

I also admired her impartiality and how she formed her own opinions about people and their acts. This I find extraordinary as she lived in a tiny village in Bavaria for the best part of her life. She was part of a close-knit community with strong conservative, catholic values, which often wouldn’t foster an openness of mind and heart. Her attitude towards life was one of happiness and regardfulness, and I could learn a lot from her.

My grandmother was also a great traveller, though – to my knowledge – she never went abroad. During the past few years, after my grandfather had died and my uncle taken over the farm, she would sometimes just pack her suitcase, go on a train and visit her seven kids one after the other.

I know she was dearly loved by her family and friends, and we will truly miss her.

German engineering power

Last weekend I met a lovely elderly lady up in Norwich who had lived in Germany after the Second World War. Anabel is my flatmate’s mum and she studied German to become a language teacher later on back in the UK. It was amazing talking to somebody who had experienced the period of reconstruction as a foreigner, and I was glad to realise that she had very good memories of it.

“It really made a big impression on me how quickly reconstruction went,” Anabel said, “everybody seemed to be working very hard. Now if you compare that with what happened in this country” – she chuckled – “well, that’s probably the old thing with us and the Germans.”

Remarks like this always strike me as surprising because I still assume that the English see the Germans first and foremost as fascistic troublemakers. Before I moved to the UK I thought that people in Britain didn’t like Germans, that they saw them as a fussy and stressful bunch of weirdos with a funny accent, and I felt inferior in the face of “Cool Britannia”.

Hence my astonishment that the image of the Germans is actually quite a positive one in this country, one of outstanding builders and extraordinary engineers. First I thought people simply wanted to make me feel comfortable by not mentioning the war but talking about German efficiency. It used to make me feel uneasy, like I was getting praised for somebody else’s achievements. And, to be honest, if I was ever asked to demonstrate my bridge construction or house building abilities it is more than likely that the result would be rather disappointing.

However, I would be a liar to deny that remarks like this do make me irrationally proud. Last year in December I went to the Christmas Market in Leeds which is run by a German company. We went to a small restaurant called “Alp Chalet” and had Kartoffelrösti with salmon. My boyfriend praised the food, praised the beer – and then praised the wooden construction of the restaurant.

German engineering power – The Alp Chalet at the Christmas Market in Leeds

I felt pleased but tried to make a joke by saying: “That’s German engineering power for you!”

“Very impressive,” he nodded, without a trace of mockery.

…or so I believe, because, who knows, with these English and their dry humour you can never be quite sure. I do have reason to suspect there are subtle layers of irony that are simply incomprehensible for a German like me…

We are what we eat

I was genuinely surprised to read an article so much in favour of GM and “food engineering” in the Observer Magazine as “The future of food” in last weekend’s issue. Author Alex Renton quotes scientists Koert van Mensvoort (assistant professor at Eindhoven’s University of Technology), Louise Fresco (former head of food-innovation research and an advisor to the UN) and Tim Lang (Professor of Food Policy at London’s City University), and reasons that “when the future food arrives, most of us won’t have any choice about what we eat”.

What follows is a most depressing scenario: in 2035, Alex imagines, “the rice we buy is from reconstituted potato or barley”; “we eat vegetarian fish, grown in solar-heated, aquafarm sheds – developed from tropical varieties such as tilapia and catfish, and modified with lemon, tomato or herb genes to cover their basic muddy flavour”; and “our city street has its own small herd of GM cows”.

Is all this really necessary?

Yes, at least according to the ones who have a strong interest in widening research and investment in nano-technology, such as relevant research institutes and corporations who see a promising future market. Scientists who speak out against this are labelled as “another symptom of our ignorant and unsustainable nostalgia about food”, because, according to what the author calls “serious scientists”, traditional farming alone will not work.

Seems there are different views on this. An article in the summer 2012 issue of UK magazine The Land, an independent publication on land rights, states that at least Britain can farm itself. It is also questionable if food shortage and famine in the poorest countries of the world are actually down to the fact that there is not enough food; or to the mechanisms of a globalised economy that makes developing countries produce foodstuffs for the world market rather than their own people, where they then have to compete with subsidised products from the rich world.

Are we all Guinea pigs now?

One argument that from my point of view speaks strongly against a liberalisation for GM and otherwise engineered food products is that the long-term consequences are yet unknown. As The Land put it in its summer 2012 issue: “even if you do think there may be some value in GM technologies, there is still an overwhelming argument for keeping parts of the world free from GM [crops] as a control group.”

And the morale of this?

According to the Observer article, Cor van der Weele (Professor of Humanistic Philosophy at Wageningen University) is convinced that ethical concerns will ultimately drive public acceptance of the new food technology: “People will see the moral benefits of cultured meats. Taking stem cells from a pig rather than killing millions of pigs in factories is already a more attractive idea to consumers.”

It is a strong argument, however, I believe that the perspective is wrong. This standpoint assumes that the world has to be adapted to the ever-changing needs of mankind in a future world of 9 billion people because we “cannot go on eating food, especially meat, produced in the traditional way”. But this is true only if we continue expecting Iceland, Lidl and the like to constantly provide us with half-priced food products and if we keep eating meat at the pace and rate we do. Maybe it would be a better idea if, for a change, we adapted to the environment we flourished in and changed our consumption habits accordingly.

We will be what we eat

I believe that the further we move away from the traditional way of feeding ourselves the more we loose our already weak connection with nature. But at the end of the day it is our environment and its very special conditions that allowed us to thrive in the first place – “food” wasn’t just there because we needed it; on the contrary, mankind only developed because there were edibles that our bodies could metabolise. The food that we have been eating over centuries constitutes an enormous part of what we are today. If we start manipulating our nourishment it will ultimately have an impact on ourselves – on a biological, psychological and spiritual level as well. Personally, I would prefer not to live in a world of mutants come 2035.

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Read a well-balanced article by Peter Melchett, Policy Director at the Soil Association, on pro-GM lobby’s seven deadly sins against science here.