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Friends raved about The Kings Speech. Hollywood proclaimed it Best Picture and Colin Firth, who played King George VI, Best Actor. The story of the man who unwillingly became King of England and overcame stuttering and insecurity is filled with lessons of personal development. In honor of the Royal Wedding on April 29 here are a few lessons learned from the King’s Speech:
Things are not always as they appear or you perceive.
No one is exempt from trauma during childhood.
Every career has areas pushing you beyond your skills.
Good rapport and trust in the professionals that help you is key to success.
A cheering squad of one, whether a friend or loved one, is another big key to achievement.
A story, well written and presented, is inspiring, entertaining, and thought provoking. Bravo Hollywood for your choices!
And finally, everyone needs a best friend – a confidante and buddy who shares the valley of disappointment and the peak of success.
Who'd have thought?
A milestone birthday requires a party and month long celebration. This birthday was going to be marked appropriately.
A burst of energy got home projects finished that had been put off too long. Plans were made and invites issued to friends, including Farmer.
When he rsvp’d, I asked about the date for a visit to his home going unanswered. He was busy getting crops up was the reply. “Something’s not right here.” Intuition said.
The party was a blast with best friends sharing cake and partaking in merriment. Farmer came late, was pleasant, and brought a bottle of champagne. He left very early, saying he had a long drive home.
Recounting my birthday evening, I said to Kathleen, my mentor in all things single women need to know, “It’s not adding up. There’s an 8 year gap when I add up all the numbers.”
“Have you googled him?” she asked.
"Never occurred to me. Let’s do it now.” I said. “His name is ordinary. Hold on! Last week we talked about his middle name and it’s really different. Let’s try that. His middle name is Westerly.”
With no expectation of any result, we were floored to see what Mr. Google provided. Up popped a PDF of a Court of Appeals of Virginia document! We were glued to the web as we read all 22 pages of the document. It read like a steamy novel ready to be a screen play and Oscar winning movie! He was contesting a divorce from his wife of 9 years (not 1 as he said) on numerous counts, including adultery. And he was contesting the courts finding that he committed marital waste and improper equitable distribution of his business.
Naturally the link to that PDF went to friends. Farmer became The Rat, a lowlife hosebag as my guy friends said. When I mentioned it to another girlfriend, she said she made it a point to talk to him at my birthday. “He was rude and condescending to me.” she said.
No wonder my intuition was squawking.
A burst of energy got home projects finished that had been put off too long. Plans were made and invites issued to friends, including Farmer.
When he rsvp’d, I asked about the date for a visit to his home going unanswered. He was busy getting crops up was the reply. “Something’s not right here.” Intuition said.
The party was a blast with best friends sharing cake and partaking in merriment. Farmer came late, was pleasant, and brought a bottle of champagne. He left very early, saying he had a long drive home.
Recounting my birthday evening, I said to Kathleen, my mentor in all things single women need to know, “It’s not adding up. There’s an 8 year gap when I add up all the numbers.”
“Have you googled him?” she asked.
"Never occurred to me. Let’s do it now.” I said. “His name is ordinary. Hold on! Last week we talked about his middle name and it’s really different. Let’s try that. His middle name is Westerly.”
With no expectation of any result, we were floored to see what Mr. Google provided. Up popped a PDF of a Court of Appeals of Virginia document! We were glued to the web as we read all 22 pages of the document. It read like a steamy novel ready to be a screen play and Oscar winning movie! He was contesting a divorce from his wife of 9 years (not 1 as he said) on numerous counts, including adultery. And he was contesting the courts finding that he committed marital waste and improper equitable distribution of his business.
Naturally the link to that PDF went to friends. Farmer became The Rat, a lowlife hosebag as my guy friends said. When I mentioned it to another girlfriend, she said she made it a point to talk to him at my birthday. “He was rude and condescending to me.” she said.
No wonder my intuition was squawking.
Doing the Math
Mr. Took-the-Bait morphed into Farmer. Talk about farm life, cattle, his shooting prowess, trips, my book and assorted topics made phone conversations delightful. Emails flew with daily reports. Weekly he was in town for engaging lunches at numerous new restaurants. My fave was Stronghill. One dinner invite I declined as I’m never available for a last minute engagement after Wednesday. (A single woman rule learned from a single mentor.)
Farmer accepted my invite in early August to go to a friend’s wedding in DC in late August. Then I heard nothing for three weeks. “Should I email? Should I call?” I wondered. “What is this all about?”
The wedding date was getting closer and if he wasn’t going, I was taking a girlfriend. I had to know. Enough of this silence.
“Would you come to my place for a visit? Come for the weekend and we’ll go on to the wedding on Saturday.” his email said, replying to my inquiry “Do you still want to go to the wedding at the end of the month?”
“Something’s missing” was a hunch. No contact for three weeks and I wasn’t about to get myself in a bad situation. Carefully I crafted my reply “Let’s meet in Fredericksburg at 0 dark early and make it a day trip". He agreed.
At the wedding, Farmer was charming. He declined my request for a dance to check out dancing skills he claimed to have. Chats were on a variety of topics and engaging, especially over the omission of the word “obey” from the vows. Note to self – what’s the big deal?
On the return drive to Fredericksburg he invited me to his home for the weekend. This time I accepted for mid September, three weeks later. A wave to each other in our separate cars headed to our respective homes was “Goodbye. It was fun.”
When in Fredericksburg, I always get a Carls treat. Savoring Carl’s dessert, I relived the day. The wedding was beautiful, the most exquisite I’ve seen, no detail left out; being with Farmer; seeing old friends all in the lush setting of George Washington’s River Farm were as delicious as the frozen treat.
“Something’s not right. Something's missing. ” my intuition strongly resounded. I added up the numbers – years married to first wife, years married to second wife left an 8 year gap, no matter how I added. “Something’s missing. ” was the echo.
“No kidding” I replied. “But what is it? I'm no math whiz but 8 years is a life span. What in the world....”
Farmer accepted my invite in early August to go to a friend’s wedding in DC in late August. Then I heard nothing for three weeks. “Should I email? Should I call?” I wondered. “What is this all about?”
The wedding date was getting closer and if he wasn’t going, I was taking a girlfriend. I had to know. Enough of this silence.
“Would you come to my place for a visit? Come for the weekend and we’ll go on to the wedding on Saturday.” his email said, replying to my inquiry “Do you still want to go to the wedding at the end of the month?”
“Something’s missing” was a hunch. No contact for three weeks and I wasn’t about to get myself in a bad situation. Carefully I crafted my reply “Let’s meet in Fredericksburg at 0 dark early and make it a day trip". He agreed.
At the wedding, Farmer was charming. He declined my request for a dance to check out dancing skills he claimed to have. Chats were on a variety of topics and engaging, especially over the omission of the word “obey” from the vows. Note to self – what’s the big deal?
On the return drive to Fredericksburg he invited me to his home for the weekend. This time I accepted for mid September, three weeks later. A wave to each other in our separate cars headed to our respective homes was “Goodbye. It was fun.”
When in Fredericksburg, I always get a Carls treat. Savoring Carl’s dessert, I relived the day. The wedding was beautiful, the most exquisite I’ve seen, no detail left out; being with Farmer; seeing old friends all in the lush setting of George Washington’s River Farm were as delicious as the frozen treat.
“Something’s not right. Something's missing. ” my intuition strongly resounded. I added up the numbers – years married to first wife, years married to second wife left an 8 year gap, no matter how I added. “Something’s missing. ” was the echo.
“No kidding” I replied. “But what is it? I'm no math whiz but 8 years is a life span. What in the world....”
What's missing?
It’s another ‘wearing a wet, wooly dog’ day in RVA. The air conditioning at California Pizza will feel mighty good for lunch with Mr. Took-the-Bait, fresh from match.com. Resolve, commitment and action are a powerful combo to make things happen.
I’m hungry, sweaty and anxious about this ‘blind date’. How many years has it been since my last one? What are his social skills like? What will he be like? Will I like him? The questions go on and on.
California Pizza is packed. “Here I am” I hear after asking the hostess if a lone man has been seated. As I turn and see Mr. Took-the-Bait, I jump. He’s 8’ tall! Guess I missed that part of his profile.
Ever the gentleman he orders my lunch after taking my selections. He says nice things and asks about me. Points for him. Soon our conversation turns to him, naturally, revealing he has a child living in RVA, not far from my house. He lives on a several hundred acre farm near Charlottesville with Angus cattle, making him a ‘gentleman farmer.’ He has been successful in business and seems comfortable in his skin.
He tells me I can trust him and never have to be afraid when I’m with him. He’ll protect me. “What’s that about?” I wonder. The thought that I'd be afraid or need protecting never occured to me.
The waiter interrupts us to apologize for the nearby screaming kid that would send a terrorist running away. We sympathize with him, wish him well in dealing with that and question how the mother stands it.
When lunch is over, he walks me to my car. He guesses I drive a sporty little BMW or Mercedes. How wrong he was when he saw big ole Glory B sitting there, regally taking up her 4 parking places. After saying thanks for lunch and asking if he can take me out again, we say adieu. He climbs into a huge Albemarle County red mud covered SUV and drives away.
It was fun and got me looking forward to more dates. I certainly was excited about the success. And my intuition said “Something’s missing.”
I’m hungry, sweaty and anxious about this ‘blind date’. How many years has it been since my last one? What are his social skills like? What will he be like? Will I like him? The questions go on and on.
California Pizza is packed. “Here I am” I hear after asking the hostess if a lone man has been seated. As I turn and see Mr. Took-the-Bait, I jump. He’s 8’ tall! Guess I missed that part of his profile.
Ever the gentleman he orders my lunch after taking my selections. He says nice things and asks about me. Points for him. Soon our conversation turns to him, naturally, revealing he has a child living in RVA, not far from my house. He lives on a several hundred acre farm near Charlottesville with Angus cattle, making him a ‘gentleman farmer.’ He has been successful in business and seems comfortable in his skin.
He tells me I can trust him and never have to be afraid when I’m with him. He’ll protect me. “What’s that about?” I wonder. The thought that I'd be afraid or need protecting never occured to me.
The waiter interrupts us to apologize for the nearby screaming kid that would send a terrorist running away. We sympathize with him, wish him well in dealing with that and question how the mother stands it.
When lunch is over, he walks me to my car. He guesses I drive a sporty little BMW or Mercedes. How wrong he was when he saw big ole Glory B sitting there, regally taking up her 4 parking places. After saying thanks for lunch and asking if he can take me out again, we say adieu. He climbs into a huge Albemarle County red mud covered SUV and drives away.
It was fun and got me looking forward to more dates. I certainly was excited about the success. And my intuition said “Something’s missing.”
What did your resolutions do for you?
Hugging change, my 2011 theme, comes from deliberate actions taken last year. Ever heard the saying, “Be careful what you ask for.”? When what you ask for comes in spades, be ready to shuck and jive and embrace change. During the next few blogs you’ll be privy to what happened because I played big and bold in 2010.
It was one of those days that felt like I was wearing a wet wooly dog…a typical June day in RVA. Dressed in summer finery, I was on the way to Mandy’s wedding.
“I’m sick of this. I’m doing something about it.” I said. “This time next year my life will be different.” I muttered as I drove. “She’s divorced, dated, courted and getting married and I haven’t had a decent date in ages. Everybody’s getting married - even my daughter. This is changing.” I’d said that before. This time resolve and commitment came from my toes.
Having a better social life wasn’t working with what I was doing. Newly married neighbors met on match.com and my best friend met her husband on match. What could I lose? At least I’d have a few dinners, interesting conversations and stories to tell. With coaching from match-experienced friends, my profile was written and photos were selected for prime marketing.
June 30 was launch date. I hemmed and hawed about sending emails. "Do I do this or not? This is work. What do I say to strangers?” I muttered, afraid I’d be successful and have too much fun with Mr. Right. “Hey, that’s fear of success. Isn’t that why you’re doing this? Pull up those big girl panties and get over yourself. This is sport so go for it big.” I told myself.
With vigor I clicked on one profile after another of guys who were looking for I don’t know what. Each had to pass my rule of 6 – clean shaven, non-smoker, physically active, widowed or divorced, have kids and kind eyes. I wasn’t settling for less. And I had nothing to lose.
Many hours late at night were spent looking, reading, clicking, deleting. Not much out there that passes my rule of 6. Should I abandon the rule? Heck no. Abandoning my rule equals settling and I’m not settling.
The few guys who did pass got this email: Subject: Hi Handsome. After that, words stopped. Match directions say “write cute clever notes to show what a prize you are.” At 10 pm at night and dog tired it’s hard to be cute, clever or feel like a prize. Again I pulled up my big girl panties and persevered. Some notes were clever – I wondered if they were too clever. Other notes I was surprised got replies.
Several days after launch I got a strike. The bait worked. Hiker hit on me at Pinecone Hollow Café. It’s amazing this match stuff works in person, too. My follow-up to Hiker produced no results.
A few days later I cast my bait in quantity on match and got another strike! And this one wants to meet me for lunch! Success!
What success have you experienced from your resolutions?
It was one of those days that felt like I was wearing a wet wooly dog…a typical June day in RVA. Dressed in summer finery, I was on the way to Mandy’s wedding.
“I’m sick of this. I’m doing something about it.” I said. “This time next year my life will be different.” I muttered as I drove. “She’s divorced, dated, courted and getting married and I haven’t had a decent date in ages. Everybody’s getting married - even my daughter. This is changing.” I’d said that before. This time resolve and commitment came from my toes.
Having a better social life wasn’t working with what I was doing. Newly married neighbors met on match.com and my best friend met her husband on match. What could I lose? At least I’d have a few dinners, interesting conversations and stories to tell. With coaching from match-experienced friends, my profile was written and photos were selected for prime marketing.
June 30 was launch date. I hemmed and hawed about sending emails. "Do I do this or not? This is work. What do I say to strangers?” I muttered, afraid I’d be successful and have too much fun with Mr. Right. “Hey, that’s fear of success. Isn’t that why you’re doing this? Pull up those big girl panties and get over yourself. This is sport so go for it big.” I told myself.
With vigor I clicked on one profile after another of guys who were looking for I don’t know what. Each had to pass my rule of 6 – clean shaven, non-smoker, physically active, widowed or divorced, have kids and kind eyes. I wasn’t settling for less. And I had nothing to lose.
Many hours late at night were spent looking, reading, clicking, deleting. Not much out there that passes my rule of 6. Should I abandon the rule? Heck no. Abandoning my rule equals settling and I’m not settling.
The few guys who did pass got this email: Subject: Hi Handsome. After that, words stopped. Match directions say “write cute clever notes to show what a prize you are.” At 10 pm at night and dog tired it’s hard to be cute, clever or feel like a prize. Again I pulled up my big girl panties and persevered. Some notes were clever – I wondered if they were too clever. Other notes I was surprised got replies.
Several days after launch I got a strike. The bait worked. Hiker hit on me at Pinecone Hollow Café. It’s amazing this match stuff works in person, too. My follow-up to Hiker produced no results.
A few days later I cast my bait in quantity on match and got another strike! And this one wants to meet me for lunch! Success!
What success have you experienced from your resolutions?
When did you last get bit?
“Take time now to reflect.” he said. “Find a comfortable place and spend time quietly reading the passage until a word or phrase resonates with you. Then stop. Reflect and pray on it.” he continued.
The day was colder than a witch in you-know-what. Being a quart low on spiritualism, this time-out was ideal. A beautiful, warm sanctuary was perfect for the retreat titled ‘Be Still and Know I Am God’. I found a pew with a comfy red pad where I could rest my back against the wall, stretch out my legs and cushion my bum. The leader, Brother Geoffrey, a monk and Superior of The Society of Saint John the Evangelist, said to get comfortable and I was following his directions. I‘m sure God wants us to be comfy. Why else are there chocolate, cashmere and warm places to go in the cold winter?
The passage was Psalm 139. I read it, wondering what words would grab me. My eyes fell upon “search” – that’s not it – “am acquainted with my ways” – nope, not it. “You hem me in.” It hit me between the eyes. “What’s this about?” I wondered.
I don’t like being hemmed in, in a box, conventional ways. Following rules feels constricting. Perhaps that’s why I never had a ‘real’ job working for someone else.
Rules are made for breaking – or pushing, at the least. I love making up my own rules - and following them. I even wrote a book titled Smart Women Make Their Own Rules: the Professional Woman’s Guide to Igniting your Power. Rules are important. Without them the world would be even more chaotic. Can you imagine traffic - during rush hour - at intersections without traffic lights?
Upon reflection I got that I have to be hemmed in by rules- by my own ‘rules’ – the principles my life is lived by. Then I have focus to do the work I’m called to do. To do each task the best I can. To serve where I can. To be served when needed.
“You hem me in.” I get it. Dang! Guess rules are more important that I realized. Ugh.
Brother Geoffrey helped us process the reflections as I said “Geez” over and over again. Finally it was lunchtime, to be done silently, continuing the mode of the Retreat.
The dining hall was large, the food delicious. Silently, politely (after all, we are southern) we nodded to each other, smiled and dined silently. The sounds were cutlery hitting dishes, chairs scraping the floor, footsteps walking across the room …and chatter.
“Who is that idiot talking? Can't she follow the rules? We’re eating in silence. What about silence doesn’t she understand? Is it so hard?” I thought. Then I realized I just bit myself!
Rats! I hate it when I bite myself in the you-know-where.
The day was colder than a witch in you-know-what. Being a quart low on spiritualism, this time-out was ideal. A beautiful, warm sanctuary was perfect for the retreat titled ‘Be Still and Know I Am God’. I found a pew with a comfy red pad where I could rest my back against the wall, stretch out my legs and cushion my bum. The leader, Brother Geoffrey, a monk and Superior of The Society of Saint John the Evangelist, said to get comfortable and I was following his directions. I‘m sure God wants us to be comfy. Why else are there chocolate, cashmere and warm places to go in the cold winter?
The passage was Psalm 139. I read it, wondering what words would grab me. My eyes fell upon “search” – that’s not it – “am acquainted with my ways” – nope, not it. “You hem me in.” It hit me between the eyes. “What’s this about?” I wondered.
I don’t like being hemmed in, in a box, conventional ways. Following rules feels constricting. Perhaps that’s why I never had a ‘real’ job working for someone else.
Rules are made for breaking – or pushing, at the least. I love making up my own rules - and following them. I even wrote a book titled Smart Women Make Their Own Rules: the Professional Woman’s Guide to Igniting your Power. Rules are important. Without them the world would be even more chaotic. Can you imagine traffic - during rush hour - at intersections without traffic lights?
Upon reflection I got that I have to be hemmed in by rules- by my own ‘rules’ – the principles my life is lived by. Then I have focus to do the work I’m called to do. To do each task the best I can. To serve where I can. To be served when needed.
“You hem me in.” I get it. Dang! Guess rules are more important that I realized. Ugh.
Brother Geoffrey helped us process the reflections as I said “Geez” over and over again. Finally it was lunchtime, to be done silently, continuing the mode of the Retreat.
The dining hall was large, the food delicious. Silently, politely (after all, we are southern) we nodded to each other, smiled and dined silently. The sounds were cutlery hitting dishes, chairs scraping the floor, footsteps walking across the room …and chatter.
“Who is that idiot talking? Can't she follow the rules? We’re eating in silence. What about silence doesn’t she understand? Is it so hard?” I thought. Then I realized I just bit myself!
Rats! I hate it when I bite myself in the you-know-where.
What happens when you don't have a plan?
The plan for my 2011 goal setting Retreat was basic – a full day set aside to be alone, without distraction. Richmond Hill was the perfect place – secluded, noontime prayer, and silence. Paper, markers, pens, computer and other goodies were ready. When the day was over I would leave with goals set for each month of 2011 to get from here to year’s end with grace, charm, and ease. Well, you gotta have a dream, right?
I picked a large sunny room on the 2nd floor as my home for the day. It felt like the best place to be – surely it was closer to outdoors and God. Watching birds fly, traffic move and hearing trains whistle kept me company (maybe they would inspire me). The brilliant blue sky and bright sun cancelled the bitter outside cold.
In a panic because I was without a single idea of where to start, I took a deep breath and sat quietly. I prayed, asking God to send something – anything.
Soon phrases came so I wrote them down – affirmations like “I can do this. My attitude is positive. Embrace change. Embrace success.” Um, interesting thoughts. More came: “Look farther out and trust that God will get me there. Give up blocks and barriers.”
I made two lists – titled Let Go and Begin. That was truly divine inspiration since I’d never have thought of that one. Phrases and words filled the columns.
Then ideas came. Starting with the end and backing slowly into each month, 2011 unfolded. They were captured randomly on post- it notes, then stuck in place as the plan became clear. I was amazed.
Peace and quiet reigned. Ideas came fast. A large red-tailed hawk flew by at eye level. When the noontime prayer bell rang, the plan was complete! And the theme Hug Change was evolving.
At days’ end, SMART (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, Timely) goals had been established. Monthly goals and steps were clear and loose. I have to allow for windfalls and unexpected opportunities to expedite them.
What I had made so hard became easy by being quiet and patient. Juggling book signings, speaking gigs, travel, clients, contracts and my wonderful life are the goal. Hugging Change Boldly is the theme. How it really works may be the next reality show.
I picked a large sunny room on the 2nd floor as my home for the day. It felt like the best place to be – surely it was closer to outdoors and God. Watching birds fly, traffic move and hearing trains whistle kept me company (maybe they would inspire me). The brilliant blue sky and bright sun cancelled the bitter outside cold.
In a panic because I was without a single idea of where to start, I took a deep breath and sat quietly. I prayed, asking God to send something – anything.
Soon phrases came so I wrote them down – affirmations like “I can do this. My attitude is positive. Embrace change. Embrace success.” Um, interesting thoughts. More came: “Look farther out and trust that God will get me there. Give up blocks and barriers.”
I made two lists – titled Let Go and Begin. That was truly divine inspiration since I’d never have thought of that one. Phrases and words filled the columns.
Then ideas came. Starting with the end and backing slowly into each month, 2011 unfolded. They were captured randomly on post- it notes, then stuck in place as the plan became clear. I was amazed.
Peace and quiet reigned. Ideas came fast. A large red-tailed hawk flew by at eye level. When the noontime prayer bell rang, the plan was complete! And the theme Hug Change was evolving.
At days’ end, SMART (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, Timely) goals had been established. Monthly goals and steps were clear and loose. I have to allow for windfalls and unexpected opportunities to expedite them.
What I had made so hard became easy by being quiet and patient. Juggling book signings, speaking gigs, travel, clients, contracts and my wonderful life are the goal. Hugging Change Boldly is the theme. How it really works may be the next reality show.
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