The Art of Brilliance Blog

Paul McKenna is one of my heroes – completely cool in a totally uncool way – his unwavering confidence shining through in the title of his books. I was particularly taken with ‘I can make you thin’, which I bought and devoured (obviously, not literally, otherwise his book would have had the opposite effect).

‘I can make you thin’? I considered my recent trip to buy some new jeans and being saddened by thrashing around in the changing room and catching sight of my rear end in the magic 360 mirror. Paul wasn’t promising ‘I might be able to help you slim down a little bit’ or even ‘I can make you less fat’. Nope, his bold claim was that he would make me slim. Even better, there’s no list of good or bad foods. All food is good. This is my kind of book!

It’s a great read, padded a little, but all-in-all an enjoyable romp. It’s padded because this is basically it: On your hunger scale of one to 10, (where one is ravenous and 10 is Mr Creosote) always eat when you reach a three or four (so never get reaaaaly hungry) and stop eating when you’re at a seven or eight (so don’t stuff your face).

So ‘eat when you’re hungry’ and ‘stop eating before you’re stuffed’. It’s deliciously simple.

But so is food. And as simple as it may seem and as much as I know it makes perfect sense – stop eating just before you’re full – goes against everything I’ve ever been taught. In our house, the general rule is that you stop eating when it hurts and, even then, your pudding pipe will need filling (it’s a separate tube you see, so no matter how much main course you have, you can always fit a pudding in).

If I ever dared leave anything, my mum used to remind me of the ‘starving children in Africa’, as if that fish finger was going to have to be air-freighted to Addis Ababa.

A few months after reading Paul’s book I read a one star Amazon review, written by an angry reader, for whom the book hadn’t worked. She had vented her spleen, good and proper. Another Amazon customer had then replied to her rant asking simply, ‘Did you do what he said?’

And the reply, a rather sheepish, ‘Well, no, not really…’ before listing a whole load of excuses.

‘Eat when you’re hungry’ and ‘stop eating before you’re full’. Common sense that only works if you do it.

Ditto, The Art of Being Brilliant.

Andy C

We love our website. It’s funny, simple and fab – just like the guy who designed it! His actual name is Carl but he’s got a hairy back so is affectionately known as Chewy (or ‘Chewbacca’ when he’s been especially naughty).

Here, Chewy looks back and remembers making a conscious decision to be a bit more brilliant.

“I turn 30 years old next week. Although in my head I think I’m closer to 16, as I reckon my life didn’t really start until I was making decisions for myself at 14… that was when my mum first gave me a pound and asked me to go to the shop for her. I think that was the first time I had proper responsibility?

“Sixteen years later, I like to think I haven’t changed that much. Yeah I’ve got bags more experience, met a lot of awesome people, grown a bit taller and a teensie bit wider… but in general, I’m still the same old me. The one thing that has changed is that nowadays, in line with the rest of the adult population, responsibility weighs a lot heavier.

“About seven years ago, my dad passed away unexpectedly. He was a fairly young fella at 43, so not only did it sting in all the usual ways, but I felt even more distraught at the fact that we were having to deal with something we honestly weren’t expecting for another 50 years. It was difficult, but as time went by, wounds healed and I started looking back on my life, the decisions I’d made, and then thought about the decisions I was going to make.

I realised that the old cliché of “Life’s too short” wasn’t a cliché at all, it was the absolute truth. How many things had I put off because I thought I could do them in “a few years’ time”, how many times had I not bothered to make much effort with something because I had gotten complacent?

“I started to make myself look at things a little differently. There were a few things I’d ALWAYS wanted to do, in fact, two in particular:

1. Get good at running.
2. Start a web design agency.

“Now, I worked as a website designer for my job, so had a bit of traction with that one, but always thought it was something I’d do when I was a bit older. Running wise, I was 19 stone. Walking was a sweaty business. Maybe I should kick running into the long grass, along with the web design dream?

“Let me be clear, my life was perfectly fine. But there was that nagging truth from two paragraphs ago? ‘Fine’ wasn’t what I wanted for myself and, truth be told, ‘fine’ isn’t what my dear-departed dad would have wanted for me either?

“So I chose to start being more proactive and positive about the things I wanted to do in my life. Less ‘wishing’ and more ‘doing’. Sounds simple doesn’t it? Well, it is really.

“I started going out running. I chucked myself into the deep end and organised a sponsored marathon (after tragically being denied entry to the Race for Life event… who knew it was only for women?) and raised a nice amount of money for charity. I don’t recommend this to other wannabe runners, as I almost killed myself in the process, you don’t have to be a health professional to guess that 19 stone plus 26 miles is terrible idea, but it was absolutely worth it.

“I then started working all hours of the day and week to build up a client base for my web design agency, focusing on doing the stuff I loved doing and working with brilliant people. Yeah, I was technically working two full-time jobs, but I loved my own work so much that it didn’t actually feel like work. Eventually, I saved up enough pennies so that I could leave my full-time job, and chucked myself in at the deep end again and went out on my own.

“Fast forward to today, and here I am, typing this in my office, having spent the day building websites, with aching legs after training for a half marathon in the summer. Despite the pain, I couldn’t be happier!

“Here’s the learning. The Greeks have two words for time. They have ‘chronos’ which is the tick-tock variety of time that we think of. This is important simply because there isn’t enough of it and when it’s gone, it’s gone. The Greeks also have ‘kairos’, a deeply personal sense of time. This is a powerful realization that the time is right.

“Life IS too short folks. And while I’m not suggesting that quitting your job or running a marathon is for everyone, my advice is to quit waiting for life to get exciting. Start doing the things now that will get you that little bit closer to your goals and ambitions, and then keep going.”

@carlbembridge

At ‘Art of Brill’ we like to be solution focused. So, with the holiday season approaching, our thoughts have turned to making airports much happier places…

Recently, my passport application got rejected. Reason? My photo has the smallest inkling of a smile and, of course, you’re not allowed to smile on your passport photo.

How about we turn that policy on its head and make it compulsory that you HAVE to smile on your passport photo. In fact, all applications will be rejected unless there’s a big cheesy grin spread across your face and your eyes are sparkling.

So, on entering a country, everyone would have to approach passport control and do their bestest grin. The passport holder would be happy and I’m sure immigration officers would feel uplifted too.

#genius

Andy x

I’d tried Andy’s ‘Happy Monday’ and failed. Tuesday had been grim too. I’d struggled through to ‘working from home Wednesday’ and was finding it difficult to get down to what I needed to do. I stared down at my work and my work stared right back at me.

The doorbell rang and the knocker was knocked. Two thoughts sprung to mind. Firstly, how dare someone interrupt me NOT doing what I should be doing and, secondly, what’s the point of ringing and knocking at the same time?

Anyhow, with a deep breath and an audible sigh, I rose from my non-work and answered the knocker/ringer. Standing there was a smiley guy who wanted me to take part in a poll. I added another sigh and an eye roll. I’d been interrupted from my bad day by an interruption that was going to make it worse!

I was about to say ‘no thanks’ but this guy was good. In fact, he was the best. There was something about his enthusiasm? He talked the talk, but he let me speak. He explained the stuff and he let me ask questions.

Within 30 seconds I was smiling and nodding. Within a minute I’d let him in and the kettle was on. He left 10 minutes later, him with the information he wanted and me with a grin on my chops. I sat down at my work and cracked on with it, enjoying my most productive working from home day ever.

But how? I’d answered the door with a steely determination to use some Anglo Saxon language and yet he’d completely disarmed me. On reflection, it boils down to this… he understood my situation. He had humour and style. He had a great attitude. He listened and laughed. He agreed and empathised. The result is that I wanted to help him and I wanted to participate in his survey. More than that, this guy made me want to be him!

And it dawned on me – what impact do I have on people, even those I have limited contact with, on a day to day basis? And of course there’s nothing stopping me having the same positivity, warmth and friendliness – nothing stopping me, that is, except me!

This guy was what Andy would call a ‘2%er’, one of the rare breed that stand out as happy and positive. You can probably count them on the fingers of one hand, the folk in your life who provide you with an upward spiral of emotion?

Which brings me to some big questions and an even bigger promise.

Questions: How can I learn do that? Every day? And if I did, what would happen to my home and work life? And if, as Andy’s research suggests, it boils down to an attitudinal choice, why am I not making the effort every single day?

Promise: From now on, I will be a 2%er. I will choose to be as positive as life allows and, fingers crossed, be the creator of upward spirals in those around me.

Cliff Sinclair @CliffSinc

Age has never mattered much to me but it did prompt me to reflect on my life and the wonderful blessings and challenges that have come my way in that time.

One thing I am grateful for every day is my lovely friends – they are a wonderful mix of individuals with lots of interesting quirks and qualities.

As I sat there smiling at my life, I drifted into wondering what achievements I might not yet have accomplished that my friends would wish for me.

Being a girl of action, I decided to find out.

At every opportunity over the next 6 months, I gave my friends notecards to write down what challenges they would like to see me achieve before I was 50.

I was interested to see the outcome so, I collected the cards together, whittled out the ‘that’s not happening’ ones (I’m not being a human cannonball for anyone!!) and came up with a list of 50 to achieve before my Golden Jubilee Birthday.

During this journey, amongst others, I have kissed a policeman; appeared on a London stage; been an extra in a movie; supported a Dutch football team for a year; walked the London Monopoly Board; sung with nuns; walked a tightrope; driven a double decker bus; delivered a lamb; visited Vienna; stayed at The Ritz; walked over hot coals; climbed an active volcano and ridden a Rodeo Bull (please note, if attempting the last one yourself, it would be wise to schedule in at least a week’s recovery time!!);!!

Now, the question that comes up most often when people find out I have done this is ‘what has been your favourite challenge?’.

Whilst they have all been wonderful experiences (some of them at the time, others sometime after!), the one that will be etched into my mind forever was when I had to ‘spend 24 hours in silence’.

Being someone who is usually quite vocal and sociable, I knew that this challenge would be tough, but I didn’t realise beforehand what an amazing life lesson it was going to be.

Rather than stay at home, I decided I was going to live a normal day without a voice so, having donned a home-made t-shirt that notified people that I was being silent for 24 hours, I went about my business in the normal way.

I worked, I shopped and I met up with friends – it was an enlightening day, and, yes, not being able to speak was a challenge in all the ways I expected, but in one I hadn’t.

What it really bought into sharp focus for me was how many times a day people did something for me for which I wanted to thank them. Being unable to do so verbally meant I had to find other ways (nods, thumbs up etc) and made me really aware of what they had done for me.

It made me realise that ‘thanks’ can be a throwaway acknowledgement sometimes, said out of politeness and custom rather than actually feeling grateful.

My vow from now on is to be truly grateful every time someone opens a door for me or makes me a cup of tea or helps me in a shop because, whilst there are many big things that I have to be thankful for, it is the hundreds of little things that people do for me every day which make my life really wonderful.

Here’s mystic Andy’s news forecast…

I guarantee there will be some very bad weather in the UK this year – it will be windy (trees will fall), snowy (roads will clog) and very hot (Bournemouth will, for a couple of days at least, be hotter than Malaga). There will be several floods where people will have put sandbags against their door but the water still seeps in. Chances are, they will blame the government.

Globally, the weather elsewhere will be much worse. Some homes in the USA will be taken away by tornados. Bushfires will take out some houses, most likely in Oz.

There will be wars. This will lead to terrible tragedy and displaced people.

There will be several natural disasters. In one earthquake zone whole towns will be razed to the ground and the BBC will linger for six days, just long enough for somebody to be pulled from the rubble, alive.

There will be several inquests into ‘what went wrong’. Most of these inquests will force the nation to re-live a terrible tragedy from 20 years ago. The focus will be on finding someone to blame but, chances are, the victims, whomever they are, will not find closure (whatever that is?)

The various cricket and football teams will get beaten and somebody at the top will get sacked. There will be an inquiry into why we’re so rubbish at sport (except sitting down sports, like cycling, horsey stuff and rowing). There’s a fair-to-middling chance that the rest of the world will catch up with us at sitting-down sports and there will be an inquest into that too. To remain world-beating we will have to invent a lying down sport.

How do I know this? Because I’m nearly 50 and these things happen every year, with news crews pursuing each event, staying just long enough to capture their hideous essence before their story is trumped and off they dash to a fresh rumpus.

There are so many different versions of reality, it is impossible to speak of the nation as if it were a single thing that could be daily captured. The news portrays itself as impartialised reality were each side gets to rant, but more importantly, the news assembles the picture that citizens end up having of one another. The power to dictate what ‘other people’ are like; the power to invent a nation in our imaginations.

It will not surprise you to know that in my research it turns out that happy people consume less news. Not ‘no news’, but less than those around them. This is part of what I call ‘life-crafting’ – being proactive in organising your life in such a way as to maximise your wellbeing. So they shield themselves away from constant negative news, consuming enough to be in touch but not so much that they get affected.

I have followed their lead. Not only do I consume less news but I have also changed my thinking about those who criticise. After all, critics are called ‘critics’ for a reason – it’s a shortened version of the word ‘criticism’. Film critics, theatre critics, restaurant critics… they’re not called ‘advocates’ or ‘supporters’ or ‘praisers’.

I’ve decided that the people who create value tend not to be the people commenting, they are the people doing. They are not the ones who speculate from the sidelines but the ones who fall over and scrape the skin off their knees and elbows, pick themselves up and carry on. So I’ve stopped being a critic or a hater. I recently had a word with my son. He’s a teenager and spends an inordinate amount of time on the internet, and he’d got into the habit of hating things. So, for example, his sister would mention a film she wanted to see and off he’d go, criticising it, regaling what he’d heard about it on the internet. There’s an insidious sub-culture of haters, often online, who join forces to spit bile from the sidelines. So, he hasn’t seen the film, he’s just learned about it from the online haters. So, I told him, you can be part of something nasty, defining yourself by what you don’t like, whether it be a political party an uncool pop band your rival football team or French air traffic controllers.

But rather than defining yourself by hating why don’t you express your passion for what you love? Be pro rather than anti.

He listened politely and is (I hope) bright enough and young enough to change. I can’t help feeling it’s not just about him?

Andy

A very short story. Please stick with it…

Clive stirred his cup of tea and nursed it as he shuffled back to his chair. He sat down in front of the TV. It was already on, in fact it was always on, even though there was, according to Clive, “never anything bloody well on!”

Clive rested the mug on his belly and watched nothing for a few minutes while his tea cooled. The ‘nothing’ was so bad that he flicked through a few other channels of nothing and then back to the original nothing.

He took a sip of his too-hot tea and winced. Nearly ready. It was time to assemble his pills. He had pills for his cholesterol. These were important because they meant he could keep eating butter, and Clive loved butter. I mean, what’s life without butter? Then there was the yellow pill, something to do with his liver. If it wasn’t for this pill he’d have to give up his evening tipple. He had pills for his back pain, with extra-large ones for when it got really bad. He had a pill for his blood pressure and another one for gout.

He’d forgotten what the orange one was for, but he suspected it might be something to do with migraines that the doctor had linked to too much TV. Then there were his diet pills – these were important because they meant he could have biscuits with his cuppa. “They stop your body absorbing fat,” the dietician had explained. They made his pants a bit messy but hey, thought Clive, that’s a small price to pay to be able to eat a box of Maltesers, guilt free.

Clive had a stash of special ‘little blue pills’ that he’d bought off the internet but had never had a chance to use them. That was causing him to take two anti-depressants and a sleeping pill. His most important pill was the red one. This was for his memory. If he forgot to take his red pill he would forget he needed pills at all, “and that’d be the end of you,” the doctor had warned. “Your medication is keeping you alive.”

Clive’s story is of someone who is alive, but not really living. What Clive really needs is a personal responsibility pill; something he could take that would remind him that life is a short and precious gift. A pill that would wake Clive up to the magnificance of a life well lived. A personal responsibility pill would prompt Clive to ask some really cool questions, like, ‘What changes can I make to improve my life?’, ‘What attitudes and behaviours serve me best?’ or maybe even ‘What three things can I do, starting today, that will move me forward?’

I suspect the real issue with ‘Clive’ is that he’s grown so accustomed to mediocrity that it’s too late for change. It’s a whole lot easier to keep doing what you’re doing.

I’m not anti-medication. But I am pro personal responsibility. This story is not about ‘Clive’ and it’s not about pills. Quit masking the symptoms and start changing the only thing you can – yourself.

Andy C

When I was a teenager I would often find myself daydreaming. Quite often this took the form of staring out of my bedroom window… admiring the slightly older girl from down the street as she walked her dog past my house. Until one day she looked up and saw me peeking around my curtain and, guess what, she blew me a kiss!

Yikes! I was a shy teenage boy so rather than see this as a potential ‘in’ for a long term relationship, I nearly died of embarrassment and spent the next three years being careful to avoid her.

My daydreaming crept into the classroom. Whatever was outside of the window always looked more interesting than what was going on inside – even when it was raining. In fact, especially when it was raining. I noticed the raindrops must have been of different sizes because of the variable ripples they’d create in the puddles. And windy days were amazing too. One day two empty crisp packets raced across the tennis courts – cheese and onion versus roast chicken – rarely have I been so absorbed.

And then one day I got told off for daydreaming. Mr Hatcher accused me of ‘being away with the fairies’ and that was it. I immediately labelled this behaviour as wrong and never to be done again. Very quickly I stopped staring at anything – even attractive young women walking their dogs. Then I got older, much busier and I didn’t have time to stare out of windows anymore

Fast forward 25 years and while studying my MSc in Positive Psychology I attended many lectures around the subject of ‘mindfulness’ and how it is being used in the western world to try and alleviate the daily pressures we all face.

I had always assumed that being mindful meant spending a few hours every day in the classic yogic, eyes closed meditative position. Possibly even chanting a few ‘ommmms’?

I couldn’t have been further from the truth. Mindfulness simply requires you to be aware of the moment. The problem is that we’re so hard-wired for ‘busyness’ and our brains are so frazzled with information overload, that being in the moment can be elusive. Rather than pause when we do get a few minutes in our busy day, we grab our mobile phone and do something much more important; like go to Facebook, send a Tweet or catch up with emails.

So my advice is this – learn to daydream again. It will be tough at first and you may even forget to do it for a couple of days – but it can become a habit. Just try it for one minute, right now: stop, relax and do absolutely nothing except focus on your breathing. It’s a sobering thought to understand that you are here, and ‘now’ is all you have. In fact, life is just a series of ‘nows’ and how many have passed you by without you noticing?

Who knows maybe ‘being away with the fairies’ isn’t such a bad thing after all?

Welcome to this joint blog, written by me Hannah (yes, the really smiley one in the picture) and me Andy (the older, less good looking one).

Hannah first:

This is all new to me, I have never blogged before, oh well… here goes…

On a past day, another place, a different hospital (QMC Nottingham for those who don’t know), the same person (Me, Hannah G) met Andrew Cope (author of Spy Dog, Spy Pups and Spy Cats, for those who don’t know).

As a fan of Spy Dog, with 15 books in my collection so far, I was ecstatic! With 36 prepared questions I nervously waited for Andrew Cope to arrive at the QMC school room. Tick, tock, tick, tock went the clock. I waited, I waited some more, then…I saw him talking to the teachers and I almost jumped out of my chair with excitement!

I got him to sign ALL my books while we waited for the other kids to come. YES…1 aim complete.

When everyone else arrived, Andrew Cope went through an amazing slide show of how he wrote and what inspired him and most importantly the Melonie story! A few times Andrew Cope forgot the names and he pointed to me and I shouted out the names! He didn’t catch me out once!

Before he left he gave each of us a book and we each had a photo. I also got him to answer ALL 36 of my questions. He challenged us to each write a story in order to win a Spy Dog t-shirt. I had to fit as many names of chocolate bars and sweets inconspicuously into my story. I managed 76!!! But only came second in the challenge. Sob, sob, no t-shirt for me. Hint, Hint Andrew …I WANT ONE…please!

It was an EPIC afternoon. Thanks Andrew and thanks Readathon.

By Hannah G 😊 😊 😊

And we thought it might be interesting to find out what it’s like from the authors point of view? You see, writing can be a lonely thing – all that sitting at a laptop trying to dream up story lines for Spy Dog. You end up feeling a bit sorry for yourself. And then we get invited to events – schools mostly, or libraries or book festivals. And just occasionally I get invited to a weird kind of school because it’s in a hospital. Nobody likes hospitals, right? Queen’s Med in Nottingham is like a small city, so I parked up and got lost, tutting to myself and grumbling as I sulked towards the ‘school’.

As I was walking to the staff office I went past the classroom and there sat Hannah. It’s rare that you see such a smile. I mean, check it out! And it came with a wave and a squeal. So I poked my head in and said ‘Hi’. This is when I discovered that Hannah’s condition was contagious! I immediately caught her positivity and enthusiasm. Forget the staff office, this is where I want to be, chatting to Hannah, feeling uplifted and inspired.

She really did have 36 pre-prepared questions! I’ve no idea how long I was there? I can’t remember actually speaking? Just being chatted to, nodding and, most of all, grinning like an idiot. I bounced back to my car, rejoicing in an afternoon well spent.

So thank you from me to Readathon and QMC for inviting me. Massive thanks to all the kids who attended my author talk, but especially to Hannah. Just so you know, your happiness spread from you to me, to my family and most likely to any hospital ward you’ve ever been on. A very special teeshirt is on its way.

And for the rest of us who are grumbling about a sniffle or a drizzly day, Hannah has taught us about getting a positive perspective. Life is the ultimate special occasion!

When I was eight I had a beautiful yellow budgie called Sammy Dodger. My little sis and I would close the windows in the lounge and let him out for a flutter. Except one day I forgot to close the window and Sammy escaped. We watched as Sammy flew around the garden a couple of times, chirping with glee, not quite believing his luck and then, wham, he was bombarded by pigeons.

It seems Sammy wasn’t such a dodger after all? He was grounded. I eventually found his body in a bush, he’d been pigeoned to death.

If you’re a happy person who enjoys living life – here’s some BREAKING NEWS – not everyone is like you. I think there might be a message in Sammy Dodger’s story? Something like, ‘Happy people, beware! All that vibrancy and colour? Standing out can be a risky strategy.’

I’ve coined the term ‘mood hoover’ to describe someone who’s stuck in a rut of negativity. I’m not talking about depression, more of an habitual low-level whinging. I call them ‘mood hoovers’ because they’re expert at sucking all the positivity out of you, leaving you feeling exhausted too!

So, what on earth are we supposed to do about mood hoovers? We can’t just give up on them, can we? Or ignore them? Or should we raise our effervescence to ‘irritating level’ in order to annoy them? And what if we’ve married one, or, heaven forbid, we are one?

Contrary to popular belief, the most unselfish thing you can do is live for yourself. The best way to inspire others to be happy and reach their full potential is to strive to be your best self. Live a happy and full life and you’ll lead the way for others to lead a happy and full life. Most will follow, a handful won’t.

Sammy Dodger had a sad ending because he was crowded out. We need more ‘Sammy Dodgers’. If you dare to be fully alive, you will create a ripple effect of positivity until, eventually, you crowd out the neg-heads. It’s brave, but it’s what 2%ers do.

Andy C

Have a go at making sense of these weird real-life contradictions:

1. I recently completed a half marathon. I don’t really like running. I find it boring and it gives me shin splints.
2. My kids have just left or are about to leave home. Parenting, particularly in the early days, was exhausting. My kids didn’t come with a user manual and I often got frustrated at my parental cack-handedness.
3. I run a training company that requires me to work 80 hours a week. I travel a lot. I don’t like working such long hours and I have grown to dislike motorways and budget hotel chains, particularly Travelodges.
4. I write books that have such tight deadlines that I sometimes have to stay up until 2am to finish chapters. I don’t like staying up past 10pm. It’s a chore.

All of these four activities have ingredients that I find exceedingly unpleasant. They all require me to set my personal bar ridiculously high to the point that I will sometimes fail. Yet, they are some of the most meaningful moments and activities of my life. They involve pain, effort, struggle, even anger and despair, yet once completed, I look back and get misty-eyed about them.

Why?

Because it’s these sorts of activities that give me purpose. I’m not going to ‘do a Maslow’ on you, but it’s the perpetual pursuit of fulfilling our ideal selves which grants us happiness, regardless of superficial pleasures or pain, regardless of positive or negative emotions. The end results don’t define our ideal selves. It’s not finishing the half marathon that makes me happy, it’s achieving a difficult long-term goal. It’s not the business profits that makes me happy, it’s the process of overcoming all odds with people I care about. It’s not having awesome kids that makes me happy, but knowing that I gave myself up to the growth of another human being that is special. And, to be fair, my wife mucked in as and when.

Big, important sentence alert! The effort of trying to be happy runs the serious risk of making you unhappy. Because to try to be happy implies that you are not already inhabiting your ideal self, you are not aligned with the qualities of who you wish to be. After all, if you were acting out your ideal self, then you wouldn’t feel the need to try to be happy.

A more interesting question, a question that perhaps you’ve never considered before, is what pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for? Everybody wants to have great qualifications, an amazing job and financial independence but not everyone wants to suffer through 60-hour work weeks, long commutes, two evenings a week at night school or to remain positive while inhabiting the blasé confines of an infinite corporate hell. People want to be rich without the risk, fit without hurting and famous without the talent.

Bottom line? There is significant mental effort in being your best self. It’s a commitment to a way of thinking that you have to do every day for the rest of your life. You never ‘arrive’ at the perfect sculpted mind and, unfortunately, if you have a month off, the bad habits will grow back.

Here’s the truth. Being a positive, effervescent, inspired human being is hard work. But it’s not half as exhausting as being miserable.

Andy C

In the same way that Bono suggested ‘Sunday B***** Sunday’ was not a protest song, this is not an anti-school blog.

Schools are judged on results, right? League tables have upped the ante to the point where SATs and/or GCSEs are soooo important that teachers are whipping extra effort out of each child in the quest to attain their maximum grade. Because when we crawl (exhaustedly) over July’s finishing line, the child will be able to wave that piece of paper in their hand. ‘A *, whoo-hoo, get in. Let’s celebrate and be happy!’

Controversial, I know, but what if that’s pretty much exactly the wrong strategy?

I’m not arguing against the ‘working incredibly hard’ bit. That’s a given. But cramming every after school and lunchtime with extra revision is tough for the kids and teachers. Thinking aloud, what if there was a better way?

Rewind to when your kids were born. You held your child for the first time and came over all emotional. What was your greatest wish for your child? Was it, ‘I hope she gets a decent academic grounding and has working knowledge of at least one Shakespeare play. Oh, and I’d really like her to understand how ox-bow lakes are formed.’

I doubt it? More likely, ‘I hope my child is happy.’ That’s pretty much all you ever want for your children.

This insight is important because ‘happiness’ is the key to everything. If you’ve ever attended an ‘Art of Being Brilliant’ workshop you’ll know that we talk about happiness as the starting point rather than the end point. So, for example, what if being happy after you achieved the A* was the wrong way around – and being happy every day in school was the crucial bit. Indeed, what if it’s the happiest kids who over-perform at school?

We have a crack team of trainers who can run you some superb ‘revision’ sessions for your school or your child’s school. But we reckon you’d be much better off booking an Art of Being Brilliant session and not mentioning ‘exams’ at all.

Get them inspired to be their best selves… and amazing results will follow.