tough day, tough week – over half a million – mr bean

yesterday was tough.

very tough.

this week i have done a talk for an international media company.

in front of 30 people.

in a cellar.

i have done a talk with chloe for a group of global lawyers.

in a beautiful, brightly lit corner boardroom.

with two of the most massive screens side by side.

one for the slide deck.

and one for the viewers watching our talk being streamed.

and yesterday i travelled down the m4 to swansea to do my 3rd talk of the week.

in the tiniest of rooms with only 9 people in attendance.

now i don’t know if it was the room, the people sitting so close to me, inducing some mild claustrophobia, but my parkinsons went nuts.

as i write this, having eaten, hydrated, slept, and rejuvenated i am trying to work out why.

was it because of the loud construction industry attendees, all having ‘banter’ that intimidated me?

was it the awkwardness of having gone to the toilet and having to bang louder and louder to get the attention of someone to realise somebody was outside their second security door?

i felt like mr. bean.

as we started the talk i asked the question of my audience to raise their hand if they knew anyone that struggled with mental health, a question i have asked every one of my 19 talks this year, with every person in every audience raising their hand.

until yesterday.

one by one team tiny room all raised their hands.

except one young man, sitting in the front row, arms folded, which was good because if he reached out he was close enough to touch me.

i looked at him, giving him time to think hard, and remember that one person, and join in the group bonding by raising his hand.

he stared back at me, almost menacingly.

“nearly everybody” i said, ad libbing, “and that’s why i’m here today” i continued.

“great start” inner jeff whispered.

i gave trigger warnings, and told team tiny room about my diagnosis, and how it manifests itself, with my left hand kindly showing the shaking symptom quite powerfully.

this was gonna be fun.

with talks i always find that you get an energy from the audience at some point, a smile, a laugh, and a nod.

team tiny room.

nothing.

arms folded guy.

nothing.

i picked a bad week to stop drinking.

i persevered and got to a point where I talk about taking mooses ashes to number 10 downing street, and depositing them behind a radiator, which always gets laughs, and my team tiny room started to climb on the jeff bus, smiles, two laughing out loud.

arms folded guy.

literally nothing.

i glared at him.

he glared back.

he was winning.

i was shaking.

more than usual.

i literally leant against a wall to steady myself as i played my everest summit video.

i was in automatic pilot, and as i neared the end of the hour talk, which weirdly flew by, i asked if anybody would be interested in joining us on project 1 million 2.0 by taking a bike, and in a room of only 9 people including arms folded guy, i expected a zero take up.

but, bad reader of people jeff, i got it wrong.

3 people raised their hands.

wow.

i really didn’t expect that, that is a big percentage return.

it turned out one of the hands raised was a young lady who worked for the company who had set the talk up, and were signed up already, but still 2 signups out of an audience of 9 was enough to make me happy as i drove east down the m4, reflecting on what had just happened.

firstly, even though parkies had hindered me unnervingly, i had managed to secure commitment to raise £20,000 on 29th november, which i felt proud of.

but more importantly i reflected on folded arms guy, and when i removed my personal emotion from the situation, i knew there was a reason for his rigidity, and he had a story, probably one that was triggered by me and my subject matter, and he reminded me of a scared animal, backed into a corner, possibly scared to remove himself from the room, for fear of the attention he would bring upon his departure.

i have made it my job to locate him and reach out to him, and if, and only if he needs help, endeavour to offer it, i’ll report back.

now, today we will just be over half way to selling 100 bikes for project 1 million 2.0 which is over half a million pounds pledged, how cool is that?

but i’m scared.

scared we won’t sell out.

scared we won’t raise a million.

scared we won’t reach the summit.

but today i read a quote from

Writer Harold V. Melchert reminds us that success is sweeter when you savor the path: 

“Live your life each day as you would climb a mountain. An occasional glance toward the summit keeps the goal in mind, but many beautiful scenes are to be observed from each new vantage point. Climb slowly, steadily, enjoying each passing moment; and the view from the summit will serve as a fitting climax for the journey.” 

what a metaphor for life.

hopefully when we reach the summit on 30th november i will be able to reflect on team tiny room, and how they helped form part of this amazing adventure we’re on, but for now i’ll keep climbing, one step at a time.

blue skies,

jeff

p.s. chloe is still waiting for the phone call for a date for her kidney transplant, i have a feeling it’s gonna be today