‘DAAAAD!’

If life had a strapline, it might be something like, ‘Stop trying to be perfect and start being remarkable’.

This chapter is a children’s special. No, not written for children, but it has lashings of children in it. Strictly speaking, it’ll be the same child appearing a lot of times, but you get our drift.

The unashamed child-like perspective is to remind you how to have more and more of those miraculous days. It’s grounded in pure realism, if you’re four, and will act as a shot in the arm, rejuvenating your mojo and equipping you for life as it is. Because, let’s face it, that’s how life comes at you. The world isn’t going to change to accommodate you. If you’re waiting for everything to fall into place, for that perfect moment, and then you’ll start shining – you’ll die waiting. Dimmed into extinction.

The modern world is, on the whole, rather amazing. Yes, we know the news is bad and The Daily Tabloid screams about everything being better back in the day. We’re not convinced by that argument. Bring back rickets? Or polio? What about outside toilets? Are those the good old days we’re hankering after?

We said the modern world was ‘amazing’, not ‘perfect’.

Contemporary life does provide a significant set of wellbeing challenges, one of the most fundamental being this: humans have an astonishingly versatile, powerful and creative mind/body that thrives in a particular environment – one which allows movement and mobility, one which encourages perspective, horizon and provides natural stimulation. We’re built for an environment that promotes creativity and growth.

If you map what we’re built for against the world we’ve created, there’s a mismatch. We increasingly live and work in environments that are distinctly hostile to us being the best versions of ourselves. Often we live in a world which is sedentary, artificial, repetitive, screen-based, stressful and lacking in nourishment from community, sunlight, wildness, wisdom and the simplest of wholesome foodstuffs.

Such a divergence manifests in fatigue, obesity and an array of weird and not-so-wonderful degrees of mental ill-health. Just like the Lord, the modern world doth both giveth and taketh away.

The above para distilled into one sentence?

We have a hunter–gatherer mind/body but nothing to hunt or gather.

On the face of it, the solution could be very simple. Jack your job in and spend your days in your leopard skin pants, snaring squirrels in your local park. On balance, that’s not such a great idea. We figure you’re in the upper quartile of intelligence (you’re reading this book for heaven’s sake) and you look after yourself pretty well. You go to the gym, eat healthy(ish) food, moisturize and take cod liver oil supplements but, ultimately, those birthday cards still have bigger numbers on them year by year. The days are relentless. But what if it isn’t about vitamins and Nivea? What if the secret of eternal youth was in our heads – more specifically our thinking – and we could maintain some of that youthful, carefree exuberance that young children manage to generate? They’re not fussed about the news. They don’t care what day of the week it is because you don’t actually learn that Mondays are bad until you start school.

Think back to when you were seven years old and your teacher handed you a reading book that you had read the year before.

How did it make you feel? Well, as an ex-primary schoolteacher, I’ll tell you exactly how it made the children feel the first time I made this mistake – furious, absolutely furious.

Why? Because at seven years of age we want nothing more than to be moved up a reading level. We want nothing more than for all of our classmates to see, hear and hopefully to acknowledge that we’ve been moved up a reading level! And of course the only thing we want more than that is to be able to go home and tell our parents that we’ve been moved up a reading level. We’re seeking that look of pride and approval. And if your mum was anything like mine, she’d wallpaper your new book for you. If you were lucky you’d get a cool poster of your favourite band. (It’s a generation thing, some of you will have no idea what we’re talking about.)

Another thing that always amazed me as a primary schoolteacher was those moments I was sitting doing my work as all the kids were doing theirs, and the queue formed to my right-hand side.

Now we’ve all stood in that queue, we know what it’s like. It usually consists of a row of children with great big smiles on their faces, saying something along the lines of, ‘I’m finished, what’s next?’ It’s like an absolute need at that age; a want and desire to learn, to progress, to prove themselves and to embrace the next challenge. We don’t care what others think. We’re ready, willing and more than able to take on the world, to be the best we can be, to dream and to think big. I often think we should put seven-year-olds in charge of the Palestine–Israeli spat; it’d be sorted in less than an hour.

Every single day as a primary schoolteacher my mind was completely and utterly blown by the attitude those kids showed towards their daily learning adventure.

But there’s a problem with being that age and there’s a problem with being at primary school, and it’s this: we stop being that age. There’s a technical term for it: ‘growing up’.

‘The very things that hold you down are going to lift you up.’

Timothy Mouse, ‘Dumbo’

I believe that in growing up too many of us lose something special. Very special. Some hold on to it forever, for others it comes and goes, but for many, it just disappears entirely. I’m going to refer to it as ‘that wee piece of magic’. It’s a natural thing that we’re all born with. I see it in my own two kids every day.

So what do I actually mean by ‘that wee piece of magic’? Let me try and explain …

About three months before my son’s fifth birthday we woke at 4am to the sound of him screaming, ‘DAAAAD’ as loud as he possibly could. I got the fright of my life and leapt out of my bed. In fact, I didn’t even touch the bed, I just landed on two feet and ran for the door (because that’s how ninjas respond). As I headed for the door, Kian came running into the room still shouting, ‘DAAAAD!’

Obviously concerned, I stopped him and asked ‘What on earth is it Kian? It’s four in the morning. What’s the matter?’

Perfectly calm, Kian smiled and simply answered, ‘I know why they’re called eyeballs.’

This, for me, was a moment of magic. Let me explain why.

The fact that it was 4am is irrelevant when the star of the story is only four. Kian had woken up and had a moment of learning, which is cool but it’s not the moment of magic. The moment of magic came next.

He shared it.

That’s it. It’s that simple.

He fucking shared it.

Because that’s what you do when you’re four, you share stuff. Doesn’t matter what you experience or what you discover, you share it. Doesn’t matter how big it is or how small it is, you share it. Doesn’t matter how exciting it is or how boring it is, how colourful or dull, you share it, because you’re four.

But at nearly five, you don’t just share it.

You share it from here (*points to chest*), with heart and soul. With passion, energy, excitement and it’s always wrapped up in a big ball of wonder. It’s beautiful. It’s magic.

So why is this relevant to you – a grown up – reading this? How many times in your life have you been asked at work to share best practice, share your knowledge, your inspirations and your ideas? And how often do you actually share, from here (*points to chest*), with heart and soul? With passion, energy and excitement all wrapped up in a big ball of wonder?

There’s how we lead. There’s how we create a movement. There’s how we inspire. There’s how we make a difference.

There’s how we change the world.

And in case you’re wondering, Kian never actually told me why they’re called eyeballs. To be fair, that wasn’t the point.

Five a day

Kian again.

We were having dinner one night. In fact, we do that most nights. There was broccoli on the plate. Now I don’t like broccoli, but my kids love it. They’re weird, right? I had broccoli on my plate because that’s a good parenting example.

My son leant over, picked up a piece of broccoli from my plate and said, ‘Dad, you should eat your greens,’ to which I replied, ‘And you should stop touching my food.’

‘Broccoli is great fun Dad.’ I had never heard this sentence before. He continued, ‘It can beee stuff’.

Now, instantly my brain showed me lots of pictures of trees. We all know broccoli looks like trees. It turned out I was on the right lines, but as he was only four he was streets ahead of me. Holding up the piece of broccoli he said, ‘See this piece here Dad, I want you to imagine it’s summer time, in fact, no Dad’ – he bit the head off the broccoli – ‘it’s autumn.’

Genius. I sat there thinking isn’t it incredible how, at such a young age, we can take anything we want and transform it into anything we want?

Anything.

Of course, at such a 
young age we find this process much more natural. Firstly, as kids we want things to be better, to be more fun, more exciting. Secondly, we believe it to be possible. And lastly, we know it will be worth the effort.

‘I always thought that there was at least one person in the stands who had never seen me play, and I didn’t want to let him down.’

Joe DiMaggio (American baseball legend)

Now think about this from an adult’s perspective.

Most adults want things to be better, to always be improving. Most want change. Step one is always the easy part. Step two is where we lose some people. They didn’t believe it to be possible. As adults we overthink things to such an extent we convince ourselves we can’t do it.

And then there’s step three, the Bridget Jones’ passion-killer knickers of doom – as adults we know what it means to be told, ‘The effort will be worth it in the long run’. It’s shorthand for, ‘It’s going to be awful. It’s going to be stressful, messy and we’re all going to be exhausted.’

We’re reminded of a beautiful quote by Cynthia Occelli: ‘For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.’

At four years of age we don’t see destruction. We see adventure and excitement, we just think, ‘Bring it on’.

As adults, many of us see hard work, frustration and effort.

It’s time more of us rediscovered our inner child.

Just press ‘play’

Kian, again. Again!

I was sat watching Nick Jr with my kids when I had a lightning bolt of learning from one of the great philosophers of our time, Grampy Rabbit. As Grampy Rabbit was showing all the boys and girls around his Dinosaur Park, his good friend Peppa Pig – herself a great thinker – famously asked Grampy, ‘Is it real?’

To which the sagest of all rabbits in the history of bunny civilization replied, ‘It’s better than real, it’s pretend.’

Think back to when you were five years old and someone handed you a cardboard box. What’s the first thing you did with it?

Exactly! You got in it. You flew it, drove it, sailed it, transformed it, defended it, ate it. It could be anything. Forget the Xbox. A cardboard-box was the ultimate plaything.

The question therefore arises, when was the last time you played in a cardboard box? It might have been last night for all we know, but that’s unlikely.

When was the last time you looked at a cardboard box and then looked at a staircase whilst pulling your ‘up to no good’ face, took the box to the top of the stairs, wedged your adult arse in and slid/tumbled from top to bottom while shouting the word ‘WEEEEE’ as loud as you could?

Exactly!

Do it, do it now and then jump onto Twitter and tweet us with the hashtags #CBox and #SHINE.

Now, we’re not suggesting for a second that in order for you to be happier, more energetic, more motivated or more successful you have to bobsleigh down your stairs in a cardboard box. However, we want to challenge the way you think about, well, everything really.

When did the day come when some decided that now was the day to stop playing? To stop approaching everyday situations with playfulness, creativity and joy. With intrigue and fun. Did someone tell us it was wrong? Childish? What’s childish about play?

Before anyone says, ‘Hang on, play is surely only essential for kids’, let’s just be clear, play doesn’t end with childhood.

You can have a happy childhood at any age.

We’ve all heard the well-known scientific fact that children learn best through play, but have you ever heard this one …

ADULTS LEARN BEST THROUGH PLAY!

Some just need to turn off their TV and become interesting. Or simply just be interested.

Play brings joy. And it’s vital for problem solving, creativity and relationships.

Stuart Brown, MD sums it up beautifully in his bestselling book Play, where he writes:

In his book, Brown compares play to oxygen: ‘It’s all around us, yet goes mostly unnoticed or appreciated until it is missing’.

We need oxygen to breathe. Or we die.

Would it be crazy to think we need play in order to live? Or that without it – in certain ways – we die?

Think about it, play shapes the brain, opens the imagination and invigorates the soul. If we really wanted to stick our necks out, we might even say play can save lives. It certainly enhances them.

It’s important to note at this point that the opposite of play is not work. We often hear from delegates at conferences that their workplace and/or boss is ‘all work and no play’. The two shouldn’t have to be separated, we believe they can be, should be and are inextricably linked together. What work and play share is creativity.

Many grown-ups tell us they’re not very creative. Absolute nonsense, creativity is a function of the human brain, you cannot not be creative. The problem lies in the fact that many adults and workplaces don’t actively practise their creativity. It gets stifled and hidden behind a big list of rules and procedures.

‘I want to meet the man who saw a turtle and said, people will love the ninja version of that.’

Anon

Think about it. Most things that are important to you, excite you, are of interest to you and all things that stir your emotions are the results of creativity. If we were to be more actively creative, losing ourselves in activities that bring us fulfillment, we would feel more alive in the world.

When was the last time you had a game of Tig? You might have a different name for it: Tag, It, Tip, Tuggy or even Dobby!

We dare you to walk up to a colleague tomorrow, tap them on the arm (appropriately, of course), say, ‘You’re it’ – and run.

Chase games have been around for centuries. Someone ‘tigs’ you and it’s nearly impossible not to immediately then ‘tig’ someone else. You instantly pick a target, a goal even, create a plan and you’re off! Some will chase harder in a game of tig than they will in their own career.

‘Goals transform a random walk into a chase.’

Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi

One of the greatest ‘Tig’ related stories we’ve ever heard featured in the Guardian newspaper. The following story is told by Joe Tombari …

Stop pretending to be normal

Play quite simply brings us to life. You could say that play is seriously fun. Remember, it saves lives, right?

Let’s try and break down the concept of play in the context of actually being an adult. There’s a plethora of science out there around play and it teaches us about many valuable benefits, such as the development of physical, emotional, social and cognitive skills as well as self-confidence, self-esteem, experimenting with emotions, resilience, social intelligence, group interaction and problem solving.

All great stuff, but what actually goes into it? Does it really fit in our sensible grown-up world, our workplace?

Here’s our take on it.

Play can be great fun, but not always. Play involves a process of imagination, creativity and innovation. Individually these beauties stand strong, each one a superpower in its own right. Collectively they change the world. Your world.

You might say imagination is the easy part. The thinking part. But thinking can easily become over-thinking, something many of us grown-ups do incredibly well. Rumination is over-thinking. Like cows chewing the cud, we chew over our problems, several times.

This is where creativity comes into its own; it allows us to do something meaningful with our imagination. Imagination is about seeing the impossible or unreal. Creativity is using imagination to unleash the potential of existing ideas in order to create new and valuable ones.

Where imagination can tell a remarkable story, creativity can make imagination possible. Innovation uses imagination and the power of creativity to measurably improve on what exists today.

Let’s just repeat that…

It sounds like something from a superhero movie, except in this instance we all have the ability to do this. We all have these superpowers to improve on what exists today. Yes, we’re all real life superheroes with real life superpowers.

‘I’m normally not a praying man, but if you’re up there, please save me Superman.’

Homer Simpson

Which brings us full circle. Many argue Batman isn’t really a superhero as he doesn’t actually have any superpowers. He’s just a rich guy with a butler. But his ability to imagine, create and innovate is truly remarkable and second to none.

Commissioner Gordon once said to Batman, ‘You’re going to make a difference. A lot of times it won’t be huge, it won’t be visible even. But it will matter just the same.’

We’ll be your Commissioner Gordon if you promise to be our Batman. Stop pretending to be normal. ‘You’re going to make a difference. A lot of times it won’t be huge, it won’t be visible even. But it will matter just the same.’

Pants on the outside might be a step too far. But, hey, that duvet cover would make a really cool cape.

Hell yeah.