Becoming a hermit

While there's a lot I like about not working from home, there are a few things I've struggled with. Having to be up and out of the house by 7am is one of the most significant. But almost equally challenging has been trying to figure out how to work most effectively in an open-plan office. Don't misunderstand me - my colleagues are universally great, the physical working environment is well designed and the atmosphere is relaxed but intentional.

But I'm an introvert who, over the last ten years, has got used to working alone! In the first couple of weeks in the office I felt self-conscious just checking my emails. The biggest challenge I've faced, though, has been around finding space for strategic thinking.

Working at home, I liked nothing better than to get out piles of paper (printed on one side and saved from the recycling bin, of course) and a packet of fat marker pens, and lay on the floor scribbling away to my heart's content. It's an approach that works brilliantly in a lounge when you're working in your pyjamas but it doesn't really translate to an office environment!

And given that my role is a strategic development one, this has been a bit of a problem. I've tried just sitting at my desk with some bits of paper but that simply doesn't work. I've tried just working on the computer, but that's even worse. A couple of times I've thought about using one of the rooms in the office suite but couldn't quite bring myself to do it - surely only really important people are allowed to work outside the actual office?

But today I bit the bullet...and it was a revelation. OK, so I had to pass on the pyjamas and lying on the floor, but there were marker pens and paper and I discovered that the large table in the middle of the room is a great space for a kind of large scale spider diagram. In fact, my hour in the morning was so productive that I went back for another hour and a half this afternoon!

Interestingly, the room I booked is called the Hermitage. I certainly found it a great place to get away from it all and think. I might even go back tomorrow.

Reviewing the situation

It's annual review time at work and since the organisation do them as a job lot at this time of year I had mine today, despite only having been in post two months.

Since this was my second review in six months (in two different jobs) it was fascinating to compare and contrast the two very different experiences. Today I had an hour with my line manager having filled in a comprehensive review form in advance (well, as much as I could under the circumstances). The form covered my general thoughts on how well things were going, with opportunities to reflect on things that I'd particularly enjoyed or struggled with. I was asked to comment on the specific objectives in my role profile, and on how I felt I was doing living out the values of the organisation.

Then my line manager and I talked about where the role is going - ways in which I need to develop the work I'm already doing and new opportunties to embrace. I was able to ask questions and challenge decisions, without feeling defensive or whingy. At every point I felt like this was a process genuinely designed to enable me to grow, and that it was both for my benefit and the benefit of the organisation.

Reviews can be - and indeed, should be - challenging. They should push us to engage with what we and others think is important. They should aim to change people and situations. But they should also be a celebration of the values we share and the journey we're on together. They should leave us wanting to get up and go to work. Today, that was my experience.

God in the garden?

Flicking through Facebook this morning I found a comment from a friend wondering whether gardening is ever the right thing to do. Having spent two and a half hours working on my troughs and borders on Friday and another five on Saturday, I really hope it is!!

But actually the comment got me thinking, first about how often I've experienced God in the garden and then about some of the significant parallels I can see between the things I enjoy most about gardening and those I'm most passionate about in the rest of my life.

The garden is one of the few places where I've experienced a genuine sense of partnership with God. Let's face it - I can spend a small fortune at the garden centre, sweat for hours digging holes and spreading compost, move potted plants around to my heart's content, but unless God shows up and actually enables stuff to grow, my effort has been for nothing!

This afternoon I mentally made a list of the words I'd used to describe why I enjoy gardening, words like beauty, creativity, growth, imagination, diversity, care, nurture. Then I remembered that only a couple of months ago I made a list of things I'm passionate about in a far broader context... which contains exactly the same words.

It's interesting to note that the gardening list went on to include slightly less fluffy, slightly more challenging words like perseverance and discipline. Can I really claim to be as passionate about those things as I am about beauty and creativity? And what about the key issue of seasons? Let's be honest, gardening would be pretty dull if it was all daffodils and forget-me-nots. Am I willing to embrace the changing seasons when they impact more than just the garden?